not just change, but power, and worse, power that Smythe personally doesn't control, and knows he can't. The first attack was foolish, of course, but I really thought he'd moved past that when Tor didn't retaliate for it, or even demand justice. The war started right on the heels of that, before it was even really over, and he swore that Tor was only being apprehended. It was moronic, but understandable given the situation. What we saw the other day, that was still probably about fear, but now the man has a real reason for it. Before Tor was an able opponent, a builder that might be a little better than some. But now he'd successfully defeated over five hundred men in battle, alone, and chose to leave them alive.” The King shrugged. “I'm sure that to a hardened warrior like Smythe it seemed that Tor was just toying with them. Saying that they were so little threat he could treat them like a few small children instead of a company of soldiers. By all rights it should have been a blood bath. It would have been if Smythe had been there in Tor's place, I'm sure.”
Tor felt his shoulders hunch. So it was his fault? Somehow he'd scared the military advisor and made it seem like killing him was the only safe course of action? Like Tor was dangerous? He was about to point this out when Tovey snorted. In the year they'd know each other Count Thomson had seldom made any sound that undignified. Pulling his tall form straight while still sitting he nodded.
“Well, we have a war to fight and possibly two if this peace accord with Ward doesn't hold. Who replaces Smythe then? It would be prudent to act fast and I don't think that trying to hold his position for his eventual recovery is wise at this point. As it stands I doubt the man could survive another incident with Master Tor.”
It was suddenly Master Tor now? From Tovey? Since when was he a master of anything? He wasn't even a shop master or a tradesman, much less the top of his trade. A lot of builders were better than him. Like whoever built that weapon that blinded him the other day. He didn't have a clue how that worked. The light was bright, but it did more than light could somehow. It felt like it seared his very flesh at the time. That had gone away while fixing his eyes, but still… Tor called him on it.
“And really,” he added at the end. “Not only do I not have a shop or studio, I don't even have a house. Everything I own is in a couple of cases now.”
Ignoring him almost totally, except a few strained looks, people made military councilor suggestions again. A lot of names came flooding out from the room, but the King held his own council on the matter, as if he already had some ideas of his own, but didn't want to argue them yet. Tor looked up to see Connie staring at him, as if concerned.
Ah.
He got it after a few moments, she probably worried about him being homeless. Well, it had happened before. What he really needed was property, something no one could take away. If he had that, the rest could be made to happen. Thinking about it he felt suddenly angry. Why should he be without a home? Hadn't he done enough to earn one? He'd worked constantly and people said that what he did had value even.
It took an act of will to let go of the thought and focus on the topic at hand, that coming back around to the disposition of the Wards. It was important, obviously, since he'd kind of promised them a real and fair trial. Yay. He should have just killed them when he had a chance and put Petra in as Countess. It would have been easier over all. Wait, she had an older brother ahead of her didn't she? Well, they could saddle him with it then. Maybe he could get Petra to run off with him? The thought was unworthy, so he didn't mention it out loud. The killing part was unworthy, he corrected. Petra wouldn't want to run off with him, but that part would have been fine. They were both single adults and even of comparable station in life. She was Counserina second and in line until Martin had a child with his wife.
The conversation went on for a long time, and a lot of war related things were talked about, which Tor mainly just nodded through. It was nearly all he could do not to fall asleep. His eyes were heavy and the topic, while supremely important, was about as interesting as watching yeast ferment. Starting he realized that his head had dropped suddenly as he'd fallen asleep. Sitting up straight he waited for his things to be delivered, or perhaps someone would come and take him there? That would work too. That was probably going to be easier he realized. Six medium-large trunks would be hard to move, right? Especially if they didn't know how to work the follow along floats.
Nothing came. Eventually they moved to one of the dining rooms, but Tor didn't drop his shield to eat. After all, that would open him to attack. Plus for all he knew the food was poisoned. Everyone else had a poison detector, but not him. All the ones he had were in with the amulets in with his stuff.
No one said anything, but he got worried glances from everyone for some reason. Finally, after almost two hours a liveried Royal Guard came in, looking panicked. Everyone stared as he whispered in the King’s ear. Whatever it was Rich didn't look happy about it, frowning and going very still as he said something and listened to a reply. Suddenly he took a deep breath and walked from the room, heals clicking softly on the stone floor.
“Thomson, Thorgood, attend me now, please. It's… potentially urgent.” He said, not looking at either of them as he walked quickly from the room. Rolph shrugged but kept eating.
“Well, Tor, is there anything we can do to convince you that it's safe here with us now?” The Queen asked, batting her eyelashes just enough to catch his attention, without making it seem phony. It was of course, he realized. She'd probably had lessons in it as a girl. Ah well, so what if she had? If so it had worked out well enough for her, since she was Queen. If she'd been taught homemaking, she'd have been out of her depth, wouldn't she? He didn't think there was but said nothing, not knowing how to answer her.
Tor kept drifting off, and was, he realized, asleep when everyone came back in. Because being caught napping would make him look good. Not weak at all.
They didn't run, actually, if such large people could be said to mince, that's what Tor would have gone with as a descriptor. They all looked horribly worried about something, but only Tovey actually looked at him.
“Tor… all your things have been stolen. Even the devices that were in the room you shared with Countess Thorgood and… Countess Printer. All of its gone from the palace.” The Count didn't seem pleased about it at least.
Well.
Either they were lying to try and keep him there, or something had gone horribly wrong. Tor just waited. They'd probably give him something more to go on eventually. It was the King that finally broke the silence.
“Ahem. Well… not to point fingers, but Countess Printer was seen leaving with ten cases earlier, flying at speed away from the Capital. We're tracking her now, but she seems to be making best time back towards her County. We need to prove this before taking action but it seems highly likely.”
Nodding Tor just sat.
“Wait…” Something didn't make sense to him. Well a lot of things didn't really, but right now one thing really stood out. “She took my clothes? My toothbrush? Why? She'll never fit in them, and even if she did, well, the colors and styles are all wrong for her. Really, I have all those green shirts, she'd look better in burgundy, don't you think? And I know for a fact she has her own toothbrush, I've seen it, it has a really nice carved ivory handle… Oooh, and what could she be doing with my under things?” Tor mugged a little, getting a laugh from the Princesses at least, well, Trice too, though that was more a dark chuckle, as if she had some ideas about the subject that Tor probably wouldn't even think of.
That dark chuckle triggered an equally dismal thought in Tor's somewhat sleep deprived mind.
“Oh, and, I don't suppose that the amulets I was wearing when Smythe attacked me went into those cases, did they?”
Trice told him that Ger had collected them and was holding them for him.
“Great! He's a good and trustworthy person to keep my stuff. Very good in fact. Um, could someone send for him? Quickly please? Before his next meal time?” A smile strained his lips, half panicked.
No one got it except the Prince.
“Shit Tor… Do not tell me a twelve year old boy is running around with that super weapon that looks like a poison detector?”
Well, Tor considered it for a moment. Gerald was thirteen, so there was that. Nearly an adult and a Squire to boot. He wasn't worried the kid would run off with his things, just that he might get confused and check his meal with a poison detector that simply wasn't. He tilted his head back and forth as Rolph ran from the room. Gasping slightly Tor followed. He didn't want the Prince to scare the kid after all. As long as Ger knew he had it, everything would be fine. Probably safer with him in fact, since no one really seemed to want to kill the boy. No need to freak after all. It could be hard not to, but it wouldn't help anything, losing control never did.
They pelted through the hallway, rounding several hallways before making it to the kitchen, one of the
