more, came running back. She bowed, as was normal and appropriate, Tor couldn't see the point at the moment. The only thing stopping him from yelling at people was that he wasn't sure who to fight with yet. He barely heard the pleasantries, keeping his mind deep and sharp as he could.
There was food, but it was just food. All his attention was on the people. Richard looked at him, but he didn't let his gaze linger, as if guilty, but trying not to be. Connie misted up looking at him several times and Karina looked pissed. She didn't glare at anyone in particular though, not even him, so she was mad at a situation that couldn't be helped or someone out of the room? Rolph looked at him and sighed a lot, making grim faces. Varley looked down at her plate the whole time, not even lifting her eyes while standing.
Burks focused on him with nearly the same attention Tor was putting on everyone else though. That made sense. As had been pointed out, they were basically the same person and that person was different on a basic level compared from everyone else. The only ones even close were the other ancients. Tor didn't fool himself into thinking that an eighteen year old him was the equal of a three thousand year old one though.
That would have just been stupid. Worse than he normally was. Both he and Burks tilted their heads to the right when they looked at each other, but neither smiled over it. Next to him Countess Derring seemed… happy. Content.
The first, and only, time they'd met before she'd seemed strained and a little worn. Now Tor had an inkling why. Her hair was a short and sandy blond, frame huge for a woman, nearly six-ten or so at least and well muscled, her face a little plain, but the whole package looked nice, like she was a kind person that wanted to be that way, one fresh out of a bad circumstance.
After the strawberries, liberally sugared and served with heavy sweetened cream were finished and the table cleared, The King stood and gestured to Burks, a small movement of the hand that looked slightly reluctant. The Count moved to a small table off to one side, messed with five small black boxes on it and got three of the green garbed male servers to help him move it to the far end of the table, about fifteen feet away from Tor. When it was all done, hand hovering over a small central box, the only one without a glass lens poking from the front, shining slightly. He looked at the King.
“Ready?”
Richard looked around and sighed.
“Go.”
The instant the button was depressed two men appeared in the room. If it wasn't for the fact that all of them were now used to things suddenly appearing, thanks to the new houses, boats and carriages, people probably would have panicked. As it was everyone just assumed, correctly Tor noted after feeling the pattern of the men, that no one was really there. He could feel the effect, how the devices in the back put out intense light that bounced around to draw the pictures of men in the air. The room started to cool and Dowager Derring suddenly seemed cold. Everyone else had a temperature equalizer, but the device stole heat from the room to power it. Poorly designed in all, Tor thought. Burning energy like that. It wasn't even a solid field, just a seeming. Sloppy.
The man on the right was tall, not royal tall, but a good six-two or three. He had on a funny three cornered hat in blue, trimmed with red and a highly over decorated jacket with similar colors and dozens of points of shine. There were also ribbons on his chest as well as gold colored shoulder patches that looked a bit too much like someone had dumped scrambled eggs on the man to take seriously. The pants were a lighter blue with a brighter red stripe down the outside of each leg.
His face was pretty average, lighter than most people in Noram, but darker than Tor by several shades. It was a bit long and a little horsey, but didn't seem bad over all, except for the eyes. The eyes weren't sane. They glared violently and darted around the room, looking at the King and Queen, the royal children and finally stared first at Burks and then Tor, where they stayed the longest.
The other person smiled gently and was perhaps the loveliest man Tor had ever seen.
The brightly clad fellow looked to be about ten years older than him, but Tor got that the short one had to be Denno Brown. His clothing was a simple tunic and loose trousers in pale blue. If Count Ward had been made twenty again, shrunk and somehow improved by about thirty percent, he'd be this man.
It was the smaller man who spoke first, his voice smooth and fluid, washing over them like a silk cover being pulled up on a bed. The warmth and friendliness was so apparent that Tor had to wonder why they were having a war with these people at all. They could have talked out any problems and if they let this man speak for them it would probably go to Austra's advantage easily.
“Your majesties, respected worthies, Green and…” The man locked eye's with Tor and then suddenly smiled happily.
“A new brother? Burks… you did it? It worked? Amazing!”
Burks nodded.
“Denno. Yes, Tor is as you see, as we are. He and I are, with but minor changes, less than one would expect from a clone even, the same being. The differences are all in the Cordes line. This is Torrance Baker. Born of my daughter Laurali. You'd recognize her too. Lara.”
The gorgeous man… winced. Hard.
“Ah. Couldn't have worked with one of the other girls? White perhaps? Even Red? I suppose the genetic knowledge was important for the procedure and your own… techniques… magic?” He nodded, figuring it out for himself, without needing to be told, even though Tor struggled to follow a bit.
“Both are needed to form such perfect beings then?” He winked at Tor and smiled grandly.
“Don't let that perfect part go to your head little brother, I just mean that you're a very good replication. Well, the world could do worse than to have another green man in it. Perhaps we could meet to discuss your future someday? That would be very nice indeed. I think the rest of us have forgotten what we originally were over time. It happens. Time that is.”
Burks laughed, but Tor didn't get the joke yet. Maybe after he'd lived as long as they had?
The other man growled softly, pushing the idea that he wasn't all that well balanced as far as Tor could tell.
“Silence! Enough foolishness. I've given my demands, now, tell me what you've decided to do and let me know if I get to push buttons tonight or if I have to spend yet another tedious evening suffering your collective existences.” This was directed at the King who looked back at him as if bored.
“Everyone, this is Glost Serge. Somehow that I don't understand, he's become the Prime Minister of Austra. The polite man next to him is his… advisor, Dennorian Brown. For lack of faster explanations he's Count Lairdgren and Master Tor’s brother. Don't let the details bog you down, it's a headache, the truth though.”
“Enough I said Ricky! What have you and your bitch Queen decided to do, buckle under like good little dogs or die? I'm hoping for “die” myself, but it's up to you. Pick.” Glost grinned his teeth showing in a feral look that would have terrified Tor if he could just work out what he was supposed to be afraid of. As it was he kind of just wanted the man to shut up.
He was really annoying.
When Connie tried to speak, her own voice calm, the Austran leader interrupted her. Then again, demanding they choose immediately. It got to Tor, so he finally raised his hand like he used to in school. The mad eyes man's image stopped fuming and interrupting people and he pointed to Tor.
“At last, one polite person in your whole damned kingdom. Go ahead young man.” He sounded suddenly prim, but calm, as if actually taking a question in a school room.
“Sorry, not to show how dense I am, but I'm not really certain what’s going on, could you fill me in?”
The man blinked, started around the room as everyone looked at the table except for Burks and Ali, then laughed an insane and lilting belly laugh that sounded both false and deranged.
“No one told you? Not anything? Too cowardly Ricky? Can't tell a little boy that the big bad Austran is making him leave his wife and marry my Daria? Haven't told him why he can't say no either, have you? Brilliant, oh, let me then, oh yes, this will be fun. Listen close everybody. Once upon a time…”
Glost Serge spoke well, perfect Noram even, if slightly accented at times, the effect coming and going, but he was a lousy story teller, at least in the moment. That could be stress, or homicidal rage, messing with his timing and delivery. Tor couldn't tell which exactly yet.
“I had thirty-five nuclear devices built and pointed at all of Noram's Major cities. Then I told the King, the evil bully known as Ricky Cordes and his little bitch wife that if you didn't marry my daughter and return her to me safe
