[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/YW5kpkR.png[/img] [h2]A King’s Duty 4 - To Keep One’s Allies Close[/h2][/centre] [hr] Termurick sat blushing on his mattress, hands rubbing sweatily against each other in his lap. Across the room from him sat the druid Laurel with a bowl of liquid. The young king swallowed as the druid dipped her finger into the liquid and put it in her mouth, dragging her tongue around her mouth to taste it thoroughly. The druid hummed and put the bowl back down, fixing an earnest, professional gaze on the king. “As suspected, your body has an imbalance of elements - too much sun and stone, from what I can gather. I will discuss changes in your diet with the rachfi to see if we can restore the equilibrium. From what I sampled, though, it seems that your scent and flesh are in balance, though, so we will take that into account, too. Expect a lot of [abbr=A white porridge made from white flour boiled with water, baqualo tallow and rose pepper. Served cold.][i]chlach[/i][/abbr].” Termurick grimaced. “... Is there no other way?” Laurel scraped some characters into a length of thick bark. “If you are to regain your health, you need to replenish your moon and water elements. If you absolutely don’t want to eat [i]chlach[/i], I suppose we could--” “No, it’s… It’s fine,” the prince muttered. Laurel clicked in acknowledgement and rose up, walking over to the doorway to empty the rest of the bowl into the dry grass outside before stepping back inside to sit back down. “There is also… Another matter that we should discuss, my king.” Termurick laid back down on his mattress and the druid placed a wet cloth on his forehead. “Do all druids drink pee to check the king’s health?” Laurel sighed. “It is a completely necessary part of diagnosis, great son of the moon. Now, I was about to say…” “Do you have to do other gross stuff?” Another sigh. “Sampling bodily excretions to gauge the health of the aristocracy is an essential duty of the sages, my king. Now if you’d--” “Do you eat poo, too?” Laurel scoffed uncomfortably. “No, we-... If needed, we will sample the smell. It is not a joyous experience, but again, it’s necessary.” She reached out and squeezed his hand sternly. “Now… Anymore questions?” Turmerick made a sad “prrt” and waved. “No… Sorry, it was just… I was curious. Now, what did you wish to talk about?” “It’s fine, great son of the moon. It’s… Natural to be curious as to what your subjects do, exactly. Now, as for what I was going to say…” She shuffled a little closer and placed her hand on his forehead. “I was going to talk to you about this ten years from now, but with your father’s passing, I need to discuss this with you, as your court sage.” Turmerick blinked and recoiled up against the cool wall. “Laurel, you are being awfully serious.” “I am,” she confirmed and clicked. “Now, have you caught yourself wetting the bed lately?” Turmerick shrunk. “... N-no…” Laurel hummed and smacked together pursed lips. “Are you certain?” While he was not comfortable thinking about it, Turmerick permitted himself a minute or so to look back through his stressed memories of the last few weeks. “... No, I-... I haven’t been wetting the bed.” Laurel raised a black brow and scraped down some more characters on the bark in her hands. “Duly noted.” Unable to contain his curiosity, the young king turned to face her again. “... Why do you ask?” Laurel gave him a stone-faced look. “Only the king can further the royal line, great son of the moon - it is important that he be fertile early so we will have time to ensure another son is born.” As she packed her things together, Turmerick took a moment to process this. “W-wait, but… I’m twenty five.” Laurel shrugged. “Some nelflings show potency at an age as young as twenty. The sooner we can make certain the line is safe, the better.” The king clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Even if I… I was, who would--” “The rach and rachfi have graciously offered the hand of the [abbr=A/the daughter of a rachsa, which itself is a family headed by a rach and a rachfi]khamfi[/abbr] to be your future wife. I assume you were informed earlier?” Turmerick gasped. “Kh-khamfi, you mean--... I wasn’t--...” His breathing quickened and Laurel slowly waved a hand over his head, a purple dust flaking off her skin and drizzling down on the king’s face. He drew two more gasps before he magically calmed down and laid his head on the linen pillow. “... Buz she’z so old…” he slurred. “Nonsense. She’s thirty-five. A decade is nothing to worry about,” soothed the druid and wiped the remainder of the dust off her hand with a cloth. “I think the two of you would look cute together.” “Doez mozzer know?” “The queen? Yes, I believe she is aware. As is the princess - they reacted cordially to the arrangement.” Turmerick felt tears well up in his eyes. “Why wasn’ I told?” Laurel kept her manner-of-factly speech. “Forgive me. I thought you had been.” “What else has the rach and rachfi been arranshing?” The druid offered him a somewhat sympathetic click as she turned to the door. “I could summon them if you’d like.” “What other arranshements, Laurel?” Despite being delirious with moon dust and sickness, the prince pressed himself to his elbows and offered the druid a threatened growl. Laurel’s expression hardened. “Get some rest, my king,” she said and left. Turmerick snarled and rolled back onto his back, his fevered body sloppily kicking at the air to get more comfortable on the mattress. It was happening - the rach and rachfi had engaged their plan to divide them up and seize them for themselves. If he already had promised his own daughter to him, then he had no doubt given his sister and mother’s hands to his cousins in Scenta. He recalled his father’s warning and cringed in shame - how could he have gotten sick at a time like this? When his family needed him? He coughed weakly and eyed the ceiling. There had to be a way out of this… He couldn’t afford to lose his family, his only remaining allies. He gnawed desperately on the nail of his thumb, deep in thought. How, how, how could be escape this?! Then a plan struck him - a foolish, outrageous and terrible one fermented in a soup of panic, but still the only plan he could devise. He eyed the sword on its mount. For a moment, he considered asking his father for advice. He stopped himself - his father would be abhorred by the idea and ask him to think of something else. Issue was, he couldn’t - his mind was utterly blank, and any day now, his mother and sister would be sitting atop each their baqualo, heading out of his life forever. He would enact his plan tomorrow - he hadn’t a second to lose. [hr] The next morning, the nelfling king had his family and the rachsa come to his chambers, joined by the druid Laurel and the mage Crocus, an aristocrat with claws deep in the tea plantations of Fragrance. The king was nursed intimately by his mother and sister, both doting on him for a good twenty minutes while the others patiently waited around. “Oh, my baby, you look so pale,” whispered his mother and kissed his forehead. “... You need to eat more meat!” “... The sage has forbidden me from eating any - it contains too much sun and stone,” the king responded with a smile and clicked at Laurel, who clicked back. “The king speaks true, my queen. Hot, hard foods would only worsen the imbalance in his body. Once he’s healed, we’ll be sure to return him to a balanced diet.” “You better,” princess Clove whispered half-bitterly and caressed her little brother’s cheek. “If something were to happen to little Turmey, I would--” A stern click from her mother silenced her. “... That would be bad,” she corrected herself. The king laughed softly. He felt loved again, and it only tormented him more to think about what he was about to suggest. The rach chuckled politely and bowed to take the king’s hand in a well-mannered greeting. “Great son of the moon - the night truly is darker and safer with you to protect us. It is nothing short of a joy for you to have gathered us here. Pray tell, what is the occasion? Should I have my rachfi bring tea?” Turmerick sat himself up with some help from his family and cleared his throat quietly. “That, that won’t be necessary, rach Rose. I just have a quick announcement… It’s regarding the engagement with the khamfi.” He smelled the air - she was here, a nelven girl ten years his senior with coal-black cheeks and hair, with eyes like the starry sky. He saw her step forward from the rachsa gathering, wearing a small smile and the rosey perfume so common among her kinsmen. Turmerick swallowed - she was beautiful, but… Rach Rose grinned from ear to ear and clicked his tongue applaudingly. The princess and queen offered the king forced grins. “Ah, yes - forgive me for not telling you myself. It was meant to be a surprise for later, but alas, such events do have a tendency to leak out into public perception, do they not? Truly, it is an honour that you would--” “I don’t accept it!” “-- consider marrying my…” The room went quiet in a second. The rachsa’s gazes all darted to one another; rach Rose stood dumbfounded and stuttering; his daughter the khamfi covered her gasp with her hand; the queen and princess both looked about to enter a panic. The rach eventually collected himself and asked, “I, uh… I’m sorry, my king, but… Is there something barring the union of our two houses?” Turmerick swallowed. “There is! I… I am marrying someone else.” The rach looked at Laurel, who shrugged in confusion. Struggling to keep his demeanour, the rach offered another bow. “Of course, of course. If such is the case, we cannot stand in the way of our king’s promised. This is understandable. Forgive me for asking, though - to whom does the king plan to be wed?” Turmerick drew a deep breath. This would either end in victory or disaster. He looked at his mother and his sister, both of whom were at a loss as to what he was doing. The king tasted the words he was about to say and found them distasteful, but necessary. In an unbroken sentence, he spoke, “Queen Clove and princess Clove.” The room was silent again, this time without as much as a twitch of movement. Turmerick closed his eyes and drew a quivering breath. He could feel his mother and sister slowly letting go of his hands, both letting out quiet scoffs. The rach offered a single quiet snicker before placing a hand on the king’s shoulder. Turmerick opened his eyes and gazed into the rach twisted face, looking as though he was suppressing a grin into a polite smile. “Un… Unorthodox,” he offered as generously as he could, and Turmerick instantly knew he had lost. The rach straightened himself up and turned to his family. “But! Who are we to stand in the way of true love? The tradition of multiple wives harks back to your great-grandfather, in fact, my king - it is good that you wish to revere your forebears by following their examples.” He paused. “... While the records don’t offer much in terms of marriage to one’s closest kin, well… Someone would… Have to be the first, I suppose.” There came quiet snickers from the nelves around him. The queen turned to him and lowered her forehead to the floor. “Great rach Rose - he’s, he’s delirious from the fever. Please, offer him a chance to rephrase himself.” The rach clicked a ‘no’. “I’m certain the king is more than healthy enough to make his own decisions. The great son of the moon is, after all, the blessed champion of the gods - they would never abandon him when making a decision such as that.” The queen drew quivering breaths. The princess glared in disbelief at her brother. “No, I wish to congratulate you three,” the rach continued, “as a show of good faith, we will arrange for the wedding to take place at this venue. Sure, it may take some time to explain the [i]situation[/i] to the guests, but I’m certain they will eagerly support the will of the king.” He turned to the door and the rest of his family followed. “Please, do recover as quickly as possible, my king - we have a wedding to plan!” Then they left. Laurel and Crocus both stood staring and one another uncomfortably. “I… Had not expected -that-, my king… I pray you will permit me to take a few additional samples from both you and your… Brides… I wish you all the happiness of a good night.” “Good night,” Crocus echoed. Then they, too, left. The king, queen and princess sat in silence. Then, with furious strength, queen Clove slapped Turmerick across the face. The king slumped against the wall behind him and sank down, almost passing out. “W-wha--” “Why, Turmerick…” she whispered as bright tears ran across the charcoal skin. “... Why, by the moon, did you do something so, so foolish?” The princess was already sobbing sharply into her hands. The king’s breathing accelerated. “I-... I don’t understand, I… I thought this would help--” “HOW does this help us?!” the queen snarled. “You just gave-...” She shot a glare like daggers at the doorway and lowered her voice. “... You just gave the rach everything he could want.” Turmerick gasped. “... But… But how? He doesn’t, he doesn’t get to take you two from me and--” “Is -that- what you were afraid of?!” his sister snarled at him and Turmerick cowered. “He wasn’t sending us away! He had said nothing of the sort! Who’s been telling you this?!” Turmerick felt the world around him evaporate into fleeting gas. “... W-what do you--” “We were keeping him in check on that front - we were reaching out to our friends in Xiang and Lukt, trying to see if we could have some of them move here to make arrangements. As long as you are king, you could deny the rach’s wishes to marry us off.” “B-but the sword said--” How had he not caught this? Had his father forgotten to mention that to him? Had… Had he intentionally left it out? Had it even been his father talking to him through the sword? Had he gone mad? “... But this… No one will help us now. The people won’t recognise a child born of incest as an heir, and any child born outside of marriage is considered a bastard.” The queen’s face dropped into her hands. The princess dragged herself over to the wall and embraced herself shiveringly. “Our line… Has ended.” Turmerick shot back up. “B-but, I can go back on it! I can go back on my word!” He eyed the two of them. “Can’t I?” “You called in every witness the rach needed. He will buy up anyone else.” The queen looked up at the ceiling. “... We have no choice now but to escape.” “Escape?!” “... Otherwise, we’ll be kept here as the rach’s pets.” The queen swallowed. “... The rulership of the town is lost now. There is nothing for us here.” Turmerick’s head slowly fell forwards. “B-but… Fragrance is our home.” “Not anymore,” the princess whispered as though her words were meant to stab. Turmerick collapsed completely onto his bed. “I… I just wanted to keep us together…” “Well… Congratulations, bro - now we won’t be separated even if we want to be.” She stood up and left. Turmerick couldn’t even force himself to cry. His whole body was in pain - it felt as though his heart was about to break asunder under this pressure. He reached out to his mother’s shoulder, but she shrugged his hand off. “Who, Turmerick… Who planted these thoughts in your head?” “The…” he could barely formulate worlds. “... Father told me he would take you away…” The queen looked at him and shook her head. “The gods have cursed me with sons sick in the mind…” With that, she rose and left, too. Turmerick had no idea how long he laid in his blank trance after that. He stared emptily at the doorway, his mind incapable of formulating anything beyond a single sentence, repeating for hours on hours on end. “I have killed my dynasty.” [hider=Sum!] Turmerick is sick! Laurel checks him out and tells him that his humours are out of balance! She prescribes him some boring food to rebalance and we learn a bit about Fragrancian medicine. Laurel then says Turmerick is engaged to rach Rose’s daughter. After she leaves, Turmerick panics, because he’s now convinced that rach Rose has married off his mom and sister, too. He then decides on a horrible plan. He invites all of the people into his room and declares that he will marry his mother and sister. This turns out to be exactly as terrible of a plan as one would expect, and the rach is immediately super happy and blesses them with happiness. The queen and princess are furious and later explain that incest babies have no claim to the throne and neither do children from outside the marriage - therefore, no matter what they do, they cannot restore themselves to the throne now. It’s also revealed that the rach had no (explicit) plots to marry off the queen and princess, and that even if he did, the king could shut them down - a detail the sword hadn’t mentioned. Turmerick fucked up big time and Fragrance is effectively left in the hands of the aristocracy. [/hider]