The Illusion of Choice (Kasuu & Morris)

[Morris]

The halls of Igthorne Castle resounded with bristling activity. It was a holiday, the anniversary of the king's crowning. From sunrise 'till late in the night, there was no stopping to the joyous hedonism in which the court indulged in. Servants ran up and down with haste amidst the labyrinthean maze of corridors and spiralling stairways, pushing carts and carrying trays loaded with just about anything edible that humans can crave - game and cattle, fish and fruits, and so much more. It would had been tiresome just to behold the hustling entourage. Candles, torches and lamps illuminated every window, from the base level up to the highest tower, even as the imposing, ancient stronghold cast its massive shade across the rest of the city. A pompous display of power and wealth, to reaffirm strength of the monarchy.


But this was not the sort of festivity that righteous and virtuous rulers would hold. All it would take was a single vigilant glance to witness the underlying decay that perpetuated the glamour. The royal capital of Sechnal was but a shadow of what it used to be, its glory now stained and faded, covering in gravely silence under the looming shadow of their oppressive sovereign's palace. The tattered hovels of the poor stood in stark contrast to the glorified fortress. Gossips and telltales circulated amongst the citizens like so many flies, muttering in contempt of the corruption and debaucheries the king and his nobles committed themselves to whilst they slaved thanklessly to appease them.


Suffice it to say, they weren't very far from the truth. Even now men and women alike - the land-owning nobility, the generals, the advisors and just about anyone of importance - feasted like the gluttons they were. Not merely upon the culinary delights and intoxicating brews, but the fair maidens - and sometimes chaps - which the servient staff was composed of, if the random moanings in closed chambers were anything to go by. For better or worse, the victims played along - whether due to actual lust, out of fear, or for the hope of earning a few tokens of affection: a handful of coins or other baubles they could sell off. Those who had the misfortune of the burdens of age catching up with them had no other choice but to endure, even as they went underfed and unappreciated, lest they feel the lash of their overseers. The grand hall of the castle was being reduced to a pig sty, with liquids and food scraps splattered on the walls and heraldic flags.


And there he was, the all-powerful ruler himself sitting at the front of the ancestral oaken table, wearing his ceremonial clothing, drenched in liqueur and three different kinds of sauces, groping maids on both sides, laughing feverishly in delight...


...or at least, so it appeared.


The real king was not there. Just someone whom he hired for keeping up appearences. The real king had withdrawn to his quarters, elbowing on his chair, casting a scornful gaze on the floor with his pair of icy eyes while the merryment went on outside his bolted door. He would had been a pitiful sight to behold; he was so pale, his bulging veins could be seen. His hair turned to a dirty gray shade. His mighty body, once the envy of any knight, was failing, and his once firm backbone was slightly bent. He hadn't shown his face in public for months by now, only instructing his body double and councillors on how to conduct errands. In the whirlpool of drunken delights, he alone remained sober. How had it come to this?


He was Orean Cynbel I., the Cunning. Thane of Ciur, King of Sechnal, Conqueror of the Millers' Delta and Tempest Corner, raider of a dozen duchies, principalities and baronies. Hundreds of thousands bowed before him and obeyed his every whim, and many times more whispered his name in terror. He became a legend in his own lifetime, feared and respected. Now...


Now he was facing death in a manner he never wanted to.


Less than half a year ago, he started to lose his natural, slightly brownish skin tone, and his coal black hair began to get gray. This was the first clue. He started losing muscle mass next, despite his regular exercising and frequent participation in combat. Then came the worsening eyesight. Then the coughing... There was no hiding it anymore, despite the royal physician quaking for dear life, trying to reassure him things were going to be alright. He told the doctor he didn't take to lies kindly. Cue the man blurting out the truth: the king had contacted the Shrivelling. Orean took the news with surprising composure. He kept silence for a minute, nodded in understanding, then smashed the physician's face in with a heavy bronze cup.


The Shrivelling was a mysterious disease; simply put, it caused accelarated aging, and a whole assortment of unpleasant side effects as such. Nobody knew where the illness came from; it wasn't easily contagious, hence nobody knew how it was even spread; and, like with so many diseases in this withering, backwards age, nobody knew a cure for it. In the eyes of the wider populace, the Shrivelling came to be called a selective divine retribution. Orean was self-aware enough to know that if there was a higher power out there, he'd definitely merit such a punishment. But he was nowhere superstitious enough to believe the hands of fate would work like this. He wanted a solution, and was getting desperate. His informers and spies looked far and wide, both within his dominion and without, for someone who could offer him salvation - monks, herbalists, alchemists, witches, charlatans, anyone.


He took a glimpse at the elaborate clockwork construct hanging from his wall. Melody would soon be here with dinner. And the spymaster should be arriving with the latest reports afterwards. He listened to the ruckus outside in the meantime with cold disdain. Already, his court seems to have forgotten he was even here - or mayhaps, they deliberately ignore him, trying to forget that once their king will be gone... then excrement is going to hit the pavement, and it's going to hit it hard. - "What a rotten time..." - he grunted in solitude.


@Kasuu

 

[Bunn]

Location : Igthorne Castle

As Melody wandered through the halls, she let her eyes drift over the walls, occasionally getting
distracted by one of the few portraits of the king. As her stomach sank as she saw the man who took his
kingdom and shaped it from the sand that was this part of the country, he was a handsome man. He was
strong and powerful, though not many, knew what her master had become.

There was no doubt that he was sick anymore, and there wasn't anything she could do about it other
than pray to some otherworldly beings that placed her there to begin with. So She waited, and prayed, and
kept by his side for the time until everything would eventually work itself out. As her booted feet carried her
through the halls,she let herself keep a steady, quick pace. It was a rather long walk from one of the kitchens
to his private quarters, but she didn't feel like complaining nor did she have the energy to.

Even she herself had tried to visit the library between her own resting periods- trying to find anything
on it, though her own attempts had been fruitless. it was a disease, and so far it seemed to frequently take the
life of the inflicted. So it made her worry. Looking up the stairs, she let herself up the stairs carefully, keeping
aware of her surroundings. She wasn't a woman much for change, she wanted adventure, but not this kind. She
knew that she didn't wish to feel the way she had, but she did- she didn't think her King would make it through
this.. trial.

She laughed quietly to herself as she carefully moved up the last of the of the easy steps, her skirt flowing
around her ankles as she made her way down the hall. What laid before her was a grand, high-ceiling line of
doors with small tables lining the walls with vases with one of her own personal favorite flowers, white and
yellow carnations. Each of the elaborate glass vases were changed daily by one of the servants who staffed
the mighty halls.The paneling went up about four feet with the tall columns helping to support the vaulted
ceiling and cream colored paint covering the walls for the added effect.

Melody approached the ornate door to the King's personal chambers, she moved ahead slowly, the objects
on the tray swishing about slowly. Two men stood watch over the King's door, and due to her ever frequenting
visits,one side of the door was pushed open for the blonde. She slipped in carefully as she left her head low in a
bow to the men. She wasn't one to associate with someone without reason, and this goes for most. She was sim-
ply a quiet woman, trying to do about her daily life, the same day as the next. She was certainly happy, simply
reading about women more confident than she, but instead, she was simply her. The freckled woman who barely
spoke unless spoken to.

Upon entering, the door closed as quickly as it opened. She looked around the room and approached the
King as he sat, brooding as he had been as of lately. Resting the tray on her hip, she let it rest on a heavy oaken
table, where a bright, white carnation sits waiting in the vase. Melody looks upon the dusty table, not realizing
just how quickly things can get as such. Of course there was one area where the dust hadn't quite settled just yet,
the place where she often gave him his meals throughout the day. Setting out a thick pad, she set the short pot
onto the table without damaging the seemingly ancient tabletop with some of the fascinating grains looping
around each other. If it were up to her, she would have watched and read the trees stories for days on end, won-
dering why some of the lines were thicker than others in some places and the ringlets that coiled around them-
selves on the sides. Though sadly the novel she could dive into was mostly polished away.

She maneuvered herself around the quarters with familiarity, opening a wooden box that held the silver
dishwear. She lifted a spoon carefully, and set it onto a napkin in her hand, as to not spot it before handing it
down to the table. It would take her a short while before she was finished with preparing the table and as such.
In her hands was a set of silverware and a steel knife she had used to help cut the fresh bread made for the king
specifically. Melody had usually watched over the food as it was being made, but especially tonight as so many
people came in and out of the it's grand walls. She saw to the tasting and made sure it was not only safe for
consumption, but also for the taste. She has a very strong sense of taste, and how different flavors interacted,
though she herself didn't cook. But she could certainly help guide whomever who was in making it that much
better. In doing this, she helped more than she knew, by making sure nothing happened to the king through his
aspect.

Her fingertips meticulously began setting the table, a clean mat set in front of a large, looming chair.
The fine plate was on top of the green canvas mat with a gold thread around the borders with a bowl sitting neatly
in front of the seat. It was clear that tonight's main dish, like many before, was the stew Melody had the cooks
make, with her own touches to it. The heavy taste of medicinal plants was counteracted by the good brandy she
had ordered, specifically for that purpose. Before the Court Physician had passed on, she learned a few things and
had been looking through whatever books she could to try and pause, or hopefully cleanse, her King from the
ailment he was suffering.

As she finished her neat and pristine set up she turned to him, offering a slight smile.

"Your supper is ready, my King."

She looked restless, as there was much to do to the quarters before the company arrived. Her hands fumbled
together, protected underneath the long sleeves she wore often with her hair tied back and out of her face. She stood
beside the table quietly besides the words she let carry to him. She would wait until he was ready, simply standing
suit as trained by one of the women who tended to him before she had, following the rules as she was comfortable
with doing.

@Morris

 

[Morris]

Orean did not bother lifting his gaze as Melody entered his private chambers. The young woman had grown accustomed to her fanciful home and duties. The king knew what to expect of her. She was a silent type, and would show her affections as such: with gentle care and little touches where she though she could make a difference for her lord's pleasure. Orean's nose, not much less sharper than that of a hound, could smell the stench of brandy coming from the tray as soon as she entered; he had to presume she was trying - with good intentions, but probably in vain - to spice up that vegetarian swivel his current royal physician recommended for slowing the effects of the disease. Not healing; slowing. At the very least, this doctor was honest and knew what he was talking about; the Shrivelling could kill most people off within half a year. Orean was enduring fairly well in comparison. As such, he had no reason to doubt the stew's effects, however disgusting he found it.


He merely observed through peripheral vision, from the corners of his eyes as the maiden's long skirt swirled and swooped as she moved around on that petty pair of teeny feet she possessed. She wasn't anything if not a well- drilled servant. How the years flew by... Melody was 5, maybe 6 when she was taken in, during a trip many, many years ago when Orean wandered around the countryside, taking in children of the poor to be raised in his palace. As far as his councilors were concerned, it was a magnificent publicity stunt, and one that was desperately needed after Orean sent his soldiers about to collect extra taxes for war and tensions were getting high among the underclasses. Many of those children would rise to respectable positions in the palace, or would be sent back to their homes to enact the king's wishes amongst their peers. A grandiose long-term economic manouver, befitting of the king's moniker: the cunning.


At least, that was the coverup.


The truth of the matter was known to one person, and one person only: Orean Cynbel himself.


This young woman whom he had claimed as his personal servant about 17 years ago meant a lot to him, but not exactly in the ways that the many ravenous, foolish courtiers envisioned. She was not a foster daughter to be spoiled, nor a slave to be toyed with. She was, quite frankly, a trophy to him. Something he earned, and was most proud of. A memento of a bygone triumph, pleasant to look at, and greatly valued. Woe betide anyone who would dare so much as lay a finger on her. Oh, how many tried... and none are any longer around. But at the same time... she was not a subject of any deeper, tender feelings. Though in all honesty, was there ever such a person in Orean's court life? If there was, he could certainly not recall.


As Melody finished preparing the table for him and spoke in that alluring canary voice of hers, Orean nodded but once, and slightly leaning forward from his sitting place, he plainly proceeded to pull the table closer to himself along the floor, not caring for the silken rugs in the furniture's way. The vegetable stew spilled a bit over the edges of the bowl, dripping into the small canvas underneath it. Lovely as it was, it was dime a dozen for the king. He started downing his meal monotonously, one bite after the next. Well, well... Melody's efforts weren't completely a waste. Much to Orean's own surprise, she did manage to hide the throat-wrenching sourness of the herbal concoction fairly well with that brandy. It still wasn't as pleasant as he'd have preferred it, but eh, still an improvement. He did not bother with slicing the bread, instead chewing on it heartily. The taste reminded him of that wonderful brown bread he used to eat in Ciur...


This notion brought him back to reality in full swing. Here he was, the mighty king of Sechnal, who trampled the old Meccaroth dynasty to the dirt, winner of a hundred battles, stuck in his room, reminiscing over a loaf of bread, awaiting either a miracle or the slowly creeping embrace of an ingnoble natural demise. The thought was... infuriating. His spoon pretty much halted halfway in the air between his bowl and mouth as he gritted his teeth behind closed lips. He was like that for a few moments, until he turned to Melody.


"...why are you just standing there?" - He asked out of the blue, with a menacing look. Not that he was ever not threatening-looking, what with his hardened facial wrinkles, bony cheeks and big, bushy eyebrows. - "You are overstraining yourself again, aren't you, Melody?" - he added, almost as an afterthought to make himself sound less awkward. - "I can see you are weary. Sit down a while." - he gesticulated with his head to the guest chair beside his bed.


He would return to filling himself with his dinner, or what qualified as such, up until soon, the guards opened the thick-framed door once more. Severin, the spymaster arrived, with his ever-glittering grin stretching across his face. - "Salutations, your majesty!" - he greeted his king with a bow. - "And to you as well, fair Melody." - he normally would have insisted on a kiss upon the hand, but when it came to the king's servient girl, he refrained from that. He knew his boundaries well. - "My apoligies for the intrusion."


Orean carelessly let his cutlety drop into the bowl, forcing himself to stand up from his elaborately crafted chair. - "So long as you bear good tidings, you are forgiven."


He and Severin had this little habit between themselves. Severin was always keeping his smile up and looking him straight in the face, even when he informed his liege of the greatest catastrophies. It was a capacity Orean admired a bit, but was likewise disdainful of it since he had a hard time anticipating what his spymaster was thinking, what he'd say next, or whether there was some hidden secondary information he was trying not to convey. Severin worked under him for over twenty years, and yet he still haven't figured him out entirely. But even so, he tried. In contrast to their previous meeting over the past few weeks, Severin seemed... well, his body language was, as always, superfluous, but it was less formal posturing, and more carefree.


Severin did not move from where he stood. All he did was glance over to Melody, then back to his king. Orean took the message. - "Melody dear. If you'd leave us for a spell. Please." - he gestured to her to exit, expecting her to be on standby outside.


@Kasuu

 

[Bunn]

As the room became crowded, in her mind, she had looked between the two, giving each a small
bow once she was ready to depart.


"I will just outside, my King. "


Melody spoke calmly as she then turned to the spymaster, offering a smile though it was empty. If
by only the formalities she frequented for the people around her. Once she had completed her tasks, she
turned towards the door and gripped onto the handle and pulled open the heavy door, and once halfway
open the men on the other side had helped the young woman further open it far quicker than she could
by herself. Stepping out into the hallway, she moved to stand by the wall, her mind beginning to wan-
der as she quietly lets herself think away in a small section out of sight of the two guards. She had raised
her hand to her chest and began to breathe carefully, trying to inflate and deflate her lungs carefully,
making sure each one was deliberate.

When she had to wait for a member of company to have a meeting with Orean, she had a small
place in the hallways to help keep some level of privacy after being asked to vacate the area. Within
the area was a book that never ceased to tire her. It was an adventure's journal with a worn leather cover
and the pages themselves looked old and worn. It was obviously cared for, and even holding it, she can
feel where rain had seeped into the leather to create such an unique feeling to it. She always kept it in that
particular spot as she waited for whomever to finally finish their business with her King. She sighed quiet-
ly as she flipped it open to one of the many pages that detailed the large pine forests that line the mountain
sides to the north or how the beaches differ across the coastal lines.

She must have read it page by page, cover to cover at least two-hundred times. She had received it
from King Orean for her 21st birthday. She didn't know how he had come across it, though she was not
sure if she wished to know. She cherished it, the journal was her call to the world away from her, as she
held onto it with all her might. Out of everything she could save from the various shells she had bought
from the market place with the funds she have saved, to the other books that decorate her shelves in her
quarters, this journal of some strange adventurer would be her chosen object. Though sadly, even though
the pages were beneath her fingertips, she still couldn't forget the nightmares that plagued her, how she
couldn't stop the fading of the thing, the person that she held most dear to her. She remembered the visions
of him grasping onto her hand as his limbs deteriorated before her eyes, how his body soon became bones
with skin forced over them. How the once dark head of hair not only grayed, but thinned before her as she
could do nothing by watch with tears in her eyes. When she awoke, she couldn't go back to sleep. She
grieved internally for the person she felt she was loosing and could do nothing for, how she knew that
after everything, she was stuck in perpetual limbo of fear and mental agony.

No matter the rumors that circulated around the two, between the servants or the nobles that took
from the rich nobles that paced these grand halls, they didn't reach her as she knew they were not true-
and had no sway over her as result.. She didn't hear them as much as she had when she was much younger,
she simply did what she had to do, what she wanted to do. Which was make sure her King was comfortable
and not the way he is. And that made her feel terrible, how she let him deteriorate like that, at the fact
neither of them had caught it before it was.. Like that. Where she's having to serve him gruel just to prolong
his life in hopes of finding the cure of him.

He was the one who gave her a home and a place to belong. She as happy here even if she may not
get to go out terribly often, she didn't need to spread her wings. She was happy right where she was, by
her King's side, helping him prosper. She didn't want to help anyone else, no one had done what he had
for her. Her own family pawned her off when times had gotten tough, a mere inconvenience to the likes
of them. No matter what happened, by Orean's side she was safe, with a place to come to, a room to visit
when she needed solitude and a place to help make something, anything better than it already was. That
is what this place meant to her, and she would give her life if it meant helping him and the people she
cared about- though the list might be thin.

But she knew of her place within this world and his world, and she couldn't see herself existing
without being at his side, the silent crutch for him to lean if the strong willed man may ever need some-
one like she. So she waited patiently at his beck and call,

@Morris

 

[Morris]

Severin couldn't help but measure up Melody's rear side with his glimpse as she exited the royal quarters. By any and all regards, she has matured into a beautiful woman, and he wasn't the sort of man who would deny himself the sight of nature's bountiful plenty. Orean put up a scornful expression towards him, but otherwise kept silent.


When they were certain of their privacy and the door was bolted shut, the two men dropped all pretenses. - "She's grown into a fine lass, Orean. Well within marrying age, too." - he noted mischievously as he promptly occupied the guest chair, crossing his legs. - "You really should let her out a bit, maybe fetch her a nice husband."


"She's not my daughter." - Orean coldly put his opinion forward.


"Well, she might as well be! She's the closest thing you have to a child, after all." - Severin noted, as his eyes fixated on the remaining bread that Melody had baked. He raised his right eyebrow inquisitively twice, to which Orean waved. With this unspoken permission, the spymaster grabbed into the loaf and began eating, one small bit at a time. - "Sweet dear thing. Always so dutiful and considerate. One of my fellows saw her in the library digging for medical books. She learns so fast when she wants to accomplish something... You know she still keeps re-reading that tome you got for her from St. Mirrun's cathedral? Man, that was a fine raid. Too bad that drunkard Killit burned the place down."


Orean elbowed on the table, resting his face against his right arm's clenched fist. - "News on the cure?" - he pushed on to a more relevant subject, with his tone clearly indicating his patience was a dwindling resource at this point.


"Oh, right." - Severin put both legs on floor level as he bit firmly into the bread, holding it between his jaws as he dug out some pergamen parchments with his now free hands from gods know where. He sorted them out in short order, before taking the bite, swallowing it, putting the bread back on the tray as he started revising his findings. - "Let me put it this way. I have some very good news, and incredibly bad news."


Orean nodded in acknowledgement. - "Start with the good one. I need to hear something positive for a change."


Severin handed two of the parchments to his sovereign. Orean read it feverishly. The agent who wrote the report masquaraded as a mercenary who had himself hired by a bunch of pilgrims, amongst them victims of the Shrivelling, to escort them to a holy site where rumours claimed the devout clergy could treat them. And the crazyest thing? According to the agent's notes, they succeeded. He was not personally permitted entry to the monastery where the therapies took place, but within two weeks, he could meet his escorted personnel again, and they were healthy as newborns. Including those who had the Shrivelling. He went on to read the second scroll, citing a second agent who underwent the same route for re-confirmation by Severin's orders. His testimony matched that of the first, but he also could not afford to sneak in.


And therein lied the issues. The location of the place was none other than within the central region of the Maelkith Principality - Orean's worst enemies. And the monastery was sworn into honouring St. Marthos the Martyrizer... whose veneration Orean had outlawed and persecuted. Quite frankly, their followers in Sechnal pretty much deserved it, but still. Raising his gaze from the writings, Orean stared blankly before himself. - "Alright, let's see if I get this correctly. You mean to tell me, there are some miracle doctors who can actually help me get rid of the Shrivelling, but they happen to live in my most powerful opponent's territory, and belong to a faith that I would see wiped from the face of the world." - Severin nodded, his ever-present grin still not faltering. Orean let his head hang low for a bit, muttering curses that were not befitting for his life chronicles. - "If this was your bit of good news, I dread to think what else you have in store."


Severin leaned close to his king, speaking in a whispering tone. - "You know, my liege, with your health faltering and no successors in sight, people in the court are getting... anxious, to put it mildly." - Orean looked to him, and Severin continued. - "They talk behind your back. Some have written you off already, and say we should invite some royal heir from abroad, as if having forgotten how that played out the last time... others think they should keep up pretenses with your body doubler, get him a wife, and manipulate things through them as mouthpieces."


Orean maintained a stoic facade. As infuriating as Severin's news have been, treachery breeding in his absence was not something he didn't anticipate. - "You have a list of the bastards, I assume. But question is, whom can I keep my trust in?"


"The majority of the landowners are content with waiting out your end. They won't risk their heads so long as you are around. Same goes for my humble self. You're a good employer, which is not something I could say about the previous monarch. And as ever, the army is yours, my king. Your troops are loyal to your generals, and they stick by your side. Well, except for Lord Domah, but he was always a prick. Past tense is relevant, since I made sure to poison him tonight." - Severin said.


The king himself couldn't help but smile dryly at this remark. - "Was there ever a single celebration under my reign when you didn't kill somebody?"


"Mmmhh... can't say I remember." - Severin smirked. - "But anyhow, the situation is most tenuous. Which is why I brought up Melody's life. You might wish to find someplace safe for her, provided you happen to care as much for her as I'm guessing you do. Because let's face it: your only chance for survival depends on reaching that monastery in Maelkith. We lack both the time and siege capacity needed to storm across, and had we resorted to that method, the monastery would be evacuated on short notice. Going in with a small infiltration force seems easier, but is also exceptionally risky."


"But if I don't take the chance..." - Orean did not wish to speak it aloud. - "...I see. Thanks, Severin. I will have to think this through. Keep a close eye on things out there."


"Oh, I will! Say Melody I said thanks for the bread. It was most excellent." - Severin responded vigorously, before putting a handkerchief on the table, with something folded within. - "Here, in exchange. I took this from the celebration." - Orean unfolded the textile, revealing several pieces of tasty roasted mutton ribs. Orean cast a questioning gaze. Severin smiled, turning back for one last time. - "Straight from Lord Domah's plate. He didn't need them anymore." - and with that, he was gone.


Orean sniffed the meat with suspicion. In the end, he shrugged, and started chewing.


As Severin passed by Melody, he gently tapped on her shoulder. - "The king will be expecting you, lady." - and just like that, he went on with his business elsewhere.


@Kasuu

 

[Bunn]

Melody had jumped slightly at the hand on her shoulder, though upon noticing it was to get her attention she sedated herself. She closed the journal between her palms and put it back into the drawer securely. Turning to get around the hallway, she turned to the doors. Upon having the heavy doors opened to her, she slipped inside once again, looking around the area as she politely bowed to the king. Her large blue eyes looked up to him as she raised from the curtsy, obviously in silent question. She stepped around the quarters and picked up two dusting rags. Stepping over to a wash basin that needed to be supplied with fresh water, she dipped it into the liquid and then rang out the water to leave it damp. Stepping over to the table, she began to wipe down the heavy oaken table, ridding it of the dust. And then drying it with the clean rag she had over her shoulder. She had wanted to keep busy, but this was almost always for her. She hated being stagnant and waiting for something to be done when she, herself could get it done.

Her frame moved around the table, lifting the vase she got underneath various objects if they had gotten in her way, though she waited for him to be finished with his meal before she would clean that area as well. Once the dust was rid of, the table had a vague sheen to it. She moved about the room once that was done, laid the rags over a chair, noting she had to wash them soon. Marking it as something to be done, she turned to the various things on the table, beginning to tidy things up. She set the books near each other, and before coming across the paper that Severin had brought. She didn't probe, and she flipped them over, simply placing them near the King as he ate on the mutton. She didn't bother trying to stop him from eating it, something fatty might do him well in the long run.

"I trust something good came out of Severin's visit, my King?"

Melody spoke quietly as she continued to keep herself busy. After some moments, she turned to the was basin, quietly thinking. She pursed her lips in thought, but then reminded herself of the busy palace. Were anything to happen and the king were taking a bath, it would be most unfortunate. Perhaps the next night a bath can be in his future. She turned to one of the windows and moved to a string, one labeled water. She began to tug on the string before it tugged back. Within the next ten minutes a new basin of water should arrive for general cleaning for Orean. She turned back to him, her hands once again folded at her front, nodding it him. If he were paying attention, she did look stressed, the likelihood of her over-straining herself being apparent. The few times she does actually sit and do.. nothing was almost never. Her blue eyes has a mask underneath them, the dark under circles being faint but still obviously there.

"New water for your basin will arrive shortly."

She bowed her head as she then went around the room. Opening a cabinet what was taller than she, she took a wrapped bundle and ventured to one of the candelabra and opened the rag. She blew out a couple of the candles, leaving only one, and then awaited for the wax to set. Once it had, she removed the old candle and let it call to the floor so she could collect it once the others were done. she lifted one of the new sticks with a light touch. She brought wick to wick, lighting the new candle, and then heat the base before setting it onto the base it's predecessor was on. The candles would last until evening come the next night. This process took her a a good amount of time, letting it give her something to do before preparing the wash basin for Orean. But during the time spent, she kept her ears open for anything Orean might say to her before one of the other servants arrive.

@Morris

 

[Morris]

Orean was far too busy delving into his thoughts to react to pretty much anything Melody was doing in his quarters. Even when she posed her question about Severin, a muffled "A-hum, so-so..." was the best he could muster up. If his mind could be visualized, at the moment if would have looked very much like the mechanical watch on his wall, with lots of clockwork cogs and fulcrums twisting and turning, working in unision towards a singular intent. Except his brain was coming up short, as opposed to the wall clock that kept moving unfalteringly.


How was he supposed to find a workaround to this vexing situation? Severin was correct in his judgement about a potential military action - Orean purposefully demolished the old chivalric vassalage system which the previous monarchs relied upon, since it decentralized royal power and empowered the great land owner nobles in turn. In contrast, he maintained a mercenary army that could deploy rapidly and stike hard when needed - but the Maelkith Principality was essentially a country-sized fortress, with both natural and artificial obstructions barring the way in. Even if by some miracle they could force their way through, the monastery, as Severin stated, would likely be emptied and thus the cure would remain out of his reach.


So, sending in a small-scale force was more applicable - except it would also have minimal chances. How will they know what personnel to kidnap, what medical equipment to steal once in the monastery? Even if they do, how will they deliver it all back to the castle on time? What shall be done with the conspiratiors in his court during that period? There were just so many convoluted, problematic factors with the entire setup that he couldn't even begin to account for them all. He was just finishing the last of the mutton pieces, an emptied rib in hand, twirling it between his fingers contemplatively.


What to do... what to do...


It took him a while to recognize how time flew by, his attention raised by Melody exchanging the used candlesticks, the lights and shadows of the room shifting in accordance. Ultimately, Orean shook his head; Severin's information was a lot to sort through. He needed to clean his mind. Were he healty, he would find just about any sort of activity, bodily or mental, to occupy himself with, but now, he was becoming physically limited. He couldn't even read fluently anymore because of his deteriorating eyesight; the characters dissolved to pitch-stained messes or shivering ant-armies before his sight whenever he attempted to decipher them. If only...


Oh heck. He might as well ask for it.


"Forget the blasted basin, Melody." - he told her with a grumpy voice, but coughing a bit, he cleared his throat and resumed in a more well-mannered tone. - "Say, I've heard you keep re-reading that... story book I got you a few years back. Truthfully, I never took a closer look myself. And now, as you know, I am no longer able to. But indulge me; I happen to be in a curious mood. I would like you to read it for me. Some part that you find intriguing or captivating."


He was well aware his request was unusual - at the very least, he never had asked such a thing from anyone before. Nor would have he, even in his state, asked anyone else but her, for he would trust nobody else to keep silent about how His Royal Majesty Orean Cynbel I., the scourge of thirteen realms, asked a mature woman to read him what could qualify as a children's fable collection. Just to be sure, before Melody would affirm her obligation or otherwise, he added in a low-key but deadly serious voice: - "Not. A word. To anyone."


@Kasuu

 

[Bunn]

Melody turned her head in questioning, moving her feet over to the long table and put the small bundle
of candles on top of it. She sighed quietly, as she moved over to him, and rose her hand up to him, placing the
back of her palm against his forehead in a slow manner. Seeing as to how he wasn't running a fever, she stood
back, one of her blonde brows quirked for a moment but then she sighed faintly. Her feet carried her over to
the window once again, her head facing him as she spoke.

"Who would I tell?"

A quiet sigh escaped her as she tugged on the string. It had tugged back and she had sent down three more
tugs, and upon that, she got one more- letting her know that it had been heeded. The water for the wash basin
would no longer be coming up or through those steps. Melody raised her hand to the back of her neck, turning
back to where her king had sat rather wilted, she simply stood there. Gaining hold of herself, she soon began
towards the heavy door and gave a short knock onto it. Within a matter of seconds, it was opened. She spoke
to the men for a few seconds and they left the door open to her. Moving down the hall and to the right, she found
the corner that she frequented. Opening the shelf, she took out the journal with ease and soon brought it to her
chest, almost embracing it. She let out a small breath, talking to the book.


"Now, don't disappoint him."


Melody laughed quietly and her nervousness showed through that. She turned on her feet and then paced
back to the door, mouthing a thank you to the guards. She slipped back into the room and set the book down in
front of the place where she could move the table. She had brought over the chair that was beside the bed and
lifted it. She struggled with it as her breathing seemed to get labored, though she lived on, it being a bit of a task
but she managed through it. She placed her hand on her chest for the moment and took a deep breath in and slowly
let it out, pacing herself. From her spot, she looked to him, and shook her head at him.


"The only person I ever truly speak to would be you, my King. Even that is limited."


Moving around, she sat in the chair, getting comfortable though she kept her position respectful, letting the
various writings within the journal wash over her mind temporarily. Though upon thinking about it she let her
fingertips run along the side opposite the spine and began to flip through the pages albeit slowly. She was a rather
quick reader, her blue eyes having scanned the pages and skimming it to find the spot where she needed to be.
Upon seeing the drawn sketch of the town with people frozen in time with the houses coated in snow, she had
begun to read.

Entry 78
Location : Longpine- Rural town in the mountainous regions of Sechnal.

It seems I've entered one of the many towns within this region that aren't
very hospitable. I've talked to several of the people here though it seems they aren't
as talkative as I would like them to be. But that aside, the buildings here are quite
lovely, they made use of the soft pine rather well here. The view is incredible as well.
The pine forests seem to have enveloped the area as if they grew around this small
town. Despite it being between the two of the tallest mountains in the region, it was
a rather intense travel destination A travel caravan had been coming through around
the same time I had, so that was fortunate for me.
The guide leading the group was more reserved than anything, simply because
he was so stressed, though I had gotten a few drinks to open him up a bit, so he wasn't
such a drag anymore. Eventually I found a goldmine, where he was telling me about
all kinds of things that happened in the village from a heist by the king a decade back
and the taxation the people suffered, but they were good people. You just had to stick
around for a while. A while back before he was this particular caravan's grouping, he
had told me that he pretended to know the area like the back of his hand. Gerard was
a kind man, though it was obvious he didn't know anything outside of the roads. But
he did learn which gained him more gold for the people than he would have known. It
was another couple of years before someone came ahead of the caravan, as they were
stationed outside of Callouxwood, a forested region in the oak forest to the west and
making their way to Goldcrest.
Goldcrest happened to be the city I was coming from so sadly I wouldn't be able
to go along with them. But he had given me some information regarding Callouxwood-
which I'll share upon my arrival there. It should be rather entertaining upon my arrival.

Entry 79
Location : Redford Woods

This entry seemed to be detailed drawings of the forests linking the towns together
show how the evergreen forest and the deciduous connect and mingle against each
other. There were seven of the drawings altogether.

Entry 80
Location : Callouxwood- Lumber town just outside of the mountainous regions of Sechnal.

After speaking to Gerard, I've found the secret to speaking to the people along
the caravan routes. Sure, it may be considered lying, but it is worth it if I get to log
more interesting encounters among the populous with these people. Most of the time
they are unsociable, but we will see if the caravan guide had been correct.
I am sitting within my bedroom at the tavern and inn, it seems like they actually
trust me. They mentioned something about the capital, but most people do these days.
So it's typical I suppose. But really, the interesting part was that they always seem to
have their guard up for people who aren't apart of the caravan since it always seems
that spies are typically about the regions working for the King. So I came here under
the guise of a caravan member, having finally decided to go home. I stayed within the
walls of the tavern. More information to come.
After a good night's rest, it really did work. The people aren't as scared of me as
they had been in my previous stops. Hell, one of them actually offered to pay me a
drink, goes to show how much simply stating your a caravan member can be as
beneficial as it had been.

Melody sighed as her let her fingers move along the pages for a moment, her fingertips lightly brushing
against the pages.

"I have always wondered at what might happen if I were to simply.. go off. Though I hardly
have the brass that this man does. Even if I wanted to, I.."

The servant laughed lightly as she began to close the pages, her fingertips running over the surface lightly.

"I wish I was strong enough to eventually go out and try something such as this but.. I am far
too timid.. the idea is romantic, to be able to go out and live a life as if you were someone else,
looking from someone else's yes. The sheer idea of it.. It's amazing in it's own respect. Even for
a short amount of time, the things you could possibly learn.."

Melody turned away as her hand raised to the back of her neck with her face brightly illuminated by an intense
blush. She sighed quietly as she let out a quiet sigh. She seemed uncomfortable now, as her hand once again
lowered. She let it run over the cover of the book, nervously letting the white of her nail run along the cover and
into the divots in the leather.

"I apologize.. I shouldn't have begun on a tangent such as that.. It was rude of me."