[b][h1][center]Rascade(The Capital Of The City): The King's Private Quarters.[/center][/h1][/b]

Fredricus, the King of Escudo sat pensively in his room, thinking about the old days long before he was stabbed in the back by a supposedly trusty neighbour and had his treasure stolen from him. Time truly waited for no man, kings and paupers alike. He remembered when he was still a young prince. His father paved the way for the two countries to coexist peacefully, work together and flourish together. He witnessed the treaty of peace signed by both kings, thinking it would be eternally sealed in the name of mutual prosperity.

Continuing his writing, Fredricus was unsure what to write this time.  Assortments of letters were strewn about on his table, many of them were unfinished drafts that follows a similar pattern; they began with an articulately written diplomatic message, yet somehow the endings were either indescribable scribbles or a series of angry curses unbefitting of a king.  If one could make head and tails of it, the gist of his letter would be "Why are you doing this?" Indeed, why?

The obscurity of motivation continued to eat at his mind still. What started this conflict? Why did it have to be this way? He was just a boy, he knew nothing and did nothing. Denon's state wasn't actually much different either. He felt his sanity slowly trickle out of his grasp, once again considering the possibility of mobilizing his entire army to Meche and having King Denon's head on the pike along with the rest of their royal family. Yeah, why not. After all, they were the ones who started it. He offered his hand and not only they spat on it but also chopped it off and fed it to the dogs.

He sighed, banishing the musing before returning his attention to one of the precious few knights he still trusted. The orc had patiently waited as the silence stretched, but neither of them can afford much time brooding. There were plans to be made.

"Where were we, dame Matilda?"

"[color=39b54a][b]The personnel for this upcoming mission, your majesty.[/b][/color]" Recanted the knight without any delay."[color=39b54a][b]This plot wouldn't even reach halfway as far without someone in the court aiding it. Thus we looked far and wide for the few outside elements that are competent, can swear to secrecy, and above all deniable.[/b][/color]" Highly stringent criteria, but miraculous things can be achieved with practically unlimited funding and authority from the king. A list was curated in absolute secrecy before the personnel was discreetly invited to the castle.

"Thank you, dame Matilda. I'm sure you're aware that this cannot be traced back to me no matter what." Though if they somehow found his son, then to hell with political repercussion. But such thoughts cannot be spoken, not even to one's most trusted subordinate. "Just between you and me, if you will; do not, at any cost, be captured by these scum." The weakest link was obviously the one person necessary to keep contact between the investigators and the king himself. Not like Matilda was weak by any means, but precautions.

He glanced at the pile of dossiers, not feeling the motivation to give them an in-depth review. It had been vetted by his subordinates. It will be faster to meet these specialists and judge them in person than to pore over paperwork again and again. Besides, they're already in the next room. Thus...

"I suppose it's time. Summon them, would you kindly?"

Matilda heeds the order, and a moment later a chamberlain stepped in followed by a rather motley band of people. Fredricus's gaze fell on them one by one, for a moment having second thoughts about this entire thing. An elf with some suspiciously colourful recommendations. The vicious scion of Rosenving. A literal man-bear caught at a suspiciously specific timing. The prince's ever-reliable tutor. The foreigner that he took in a few years back. And finally, a travelling physician cloaked in enough urban legend to make a storybook. A few he knew, but most he never even heard of.

Oh well. Cant know everyone in the kingdom. And if they bring results, he cared not about their past or side hustles.

The king took to his feet, his sceptre tapping the ground alongside his steps. Most of them knelt. Some were slower, some with less deference than protocol demanded, but not all of them. If Fredricus had some annoyance at this, he didn't show it. While he's not exactly hale he's not old either, but a week of worry and anxiety had aged him by decades. He smiled still, barely keeping the image of a wise and just king, yet even his lifetime in politics couldn't quite hide the pain in his heart.

"You may rise. Chamberlain, leave us." Said the king wearily, stopping a few paces away from the newcomers. "I'm sure you have some inkling on this summon. So I'll just get on with it, ladies and gentlemen. My son, the prince, was kidnapped recently. I want you to find him. I don't care whatever it takes. And find who's behind the assassins too, if you will. I have no doubt they are related." He paused to turn to Matilda, which took the cue to step forward to his side. "This is dame Matilda, and she will be joining you as liaison and supervisor. You will speak not a word of this investigation to anyone not present in this room. After this is over, your reward shan't be lacking." For a moment Fredricus's voice cracked, for a moment the king vanished and in his place stood a father mired in grief. "Please. Find him. Alive. Let him be alive, gods above."

He took a deep breath, and the vulnerable father disappeared like a fading mirage. Fredricus cannot afford much more of it, not now. There'll be time for it in the future. For now, his son needs to be found, assassins to viciously interrogate, traitors to root out, and perhaps an invasion of Meche to consider. Every second mattered. His gaze fell on the merry band once more, not quite trusting them yet but what choice did he have?

"If you have any questions, voice them now."