PreCursive
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Chapter 29 - Complications
🕑 Added 2023-07-30 21:04:05 +0000 UTCBefore long, Azarus and I had reached the top of the long winding stone stairway that led to the palace district proper. We made the trip in silence, as Azarus seemed anxious about something. Personally, I spent the time admiring the grounds that we were passing by. It really did seem like something I would see out of a magazine describing the lifestyle of the obscenely wealthy from back home. Huge plots of flowers, tastefully arranged on either side of us, with the occasional dwarven groundskeeper tending to them. Meticulously tidy individual gardens that seemed to double as pseudo-parks were also visible, with paths snaking every which way from the main path that we were walking on.
Every once in a while, I would see someone that very obviously wasn’t part of the ‘help’ from where I was walking. To a one, they all looked faintly ridiculous to me. They almost seemed like a stereotype of an old-fashioned snooty medieval noble. Dressed in extravagant, impractical clothes, they were slathered in enough beauty products to look like a doll. Most of them were attended by an almost excessive number of servants and guards dwarves. However, I only saw a few of these peacock nobles.
I tried not to look at them too closely, or else I would burst into laughter and get shanked by their guards or something.
Reaching the top of the stairway, Azarus and I emerged onto an enormous courtyard that stretched all the way towards the palace proper. The courtyard itself was huge as well, with what seemed to be an arranged placement of five interconnected fountains within it. They seemed to be arranged with four of them in box formation surrounding the fifth and largest in the middle. The fountains themselves seemed large to my sensibilities, but it was clear that the middle one that they were all connected to was the largest of the four. It was as beautiful as anything else I’d seen on the grounds.
While I had been admiring the courtyard, Azarus seemed to have been scanning it for something. Whatever he had been searching for, he clearly found, as he let out a sigh. “And here he comes.” He muttered in resignation.
I followed his gaze to see a dwarf hurrying in our direction from across the courtyard. As the dwarf got closer to us, I saw he was dressed pretty fancily. He was wearing what almost seemed like a gilded, red and gold version of a butler’s uniform. On the other hand, his uniform seemed to be much fancier than I would expect a mere servant to be wearing. The dwarf himself was about average height for his people, with greased-back blond hair and muddy hazel eyes. However, what caught my attention the most was the prominent curled mustache on his upper lip. Based on what Gren had told me, I guess that made this guy another noble of some sort?
“Lord…Azarus…” The dwarf gasped out in between breaths once he had reached us, hunched over with his hands on his knees. Azarus rolled his eyes visibly and stepped forward to help the other dwarf back upright with a slap to his back. The other dwarf winced and gave Azarus a shaky smile. Glancing back and forth furtively, the dwarf turned to me and waved me closer. Startled, I did as he bid. Once I was close enough, he whispered to Azarus and I. “Stay close, and follow me. I must explain how you will be presented to the Prince today.” Having said that, the dwarf made an about-face and waited for the two of us to fall into place before slowly starting to make his way back to the palace. Azarus and I followed.
“What’s this about, Piccio?” Azarus said softly, with a frown in his voice. “I didn’t expect to cause this much trouble, this fast.”
The other dwarf, apparently named Piccio, didn’t turn to face him when he answered under his breath. “Normally, you would not. However, things have been…” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Delicate, lately. Lord Olgar has begun his campaign for the throne in earnest, I’m afraid.” He paused again before turning his head slightly in my direction. “Ah, but where are my manners? I am Jadrath Piccio, Steward to her Ladyship the Prince of Cardinal. I’m afraid I wasn’t briefed on your name, Mr…?”
I straightened up. “Ah,” I said to him, careful to keep my voice low. “Nathan Hart. It’s, uh, nice to meet you.”
Piccio nodded slightly without turning to face me. “Indeed.”
Azarus let out another sigh to my left. “Fuckin’ of course that asshole would make a bid now, of all times.” He muttered.
“Unfortunately so, Lord Azarus,” Piccio answered softly. “Additionally, I’m afraid that Lord Olgar caught wind of the missive that Captain Gastone sent to the Prince detailing the situation.”
Azarus visibly tensed for a moment before forcibly calming himself. “He didn’t see it, did he?”
Piccio shook his head slightly. “Fortunately not. However, Lord Olgar is no fool. Once he was tipped off about an urgent missive to the palace in regards to yourself, he undoubtedly smelled an opportunity. For the past half hour, he’s been gathering his supporters in the throne room. To counter him, her Ladyship has been doing the same. I’m afraid that the throne room is rather packed, as of now.”
Azarus grimaced. “Goddamnit.” He whispered harshly. “Why the damn throne room?”
“As blood of the Prince, you are entitled to a royal welcome. Technically.” Piccio answered softly.
Azarus took a breath to calm himself. “Never had to do that shit before.”
“Indeed,” Piccio told him quietly. “However, Lord Olgar no doubt knows that you are entitled to this reception, and took it upon himself to force the issue. He is unmistakably attempting to force a scene in which he can tarnish your image, and thus the Prince’s image. He does not know the reason for the Captain’s missive, but he seems to have smelled an opportunity.”
By this time, we were passing the large fountain in the middle of the courtyard. We were walking really slowly.
“Fuck, okay,” Azarus replied, his right-hand twitching. “What’s the plan then?”
Piccio let out a sigh. “We don’t have much of one, I’m afraid. With so little time between the gathering, your arrival, and your reception, there isn’t much we can do. All I can ask, all the Prince can ask is that you follow her lead…and improvise.”
“That’s it?” Azarus asked incredulously.
The steward winced. “Unfortunately so. The Prince can handle Lord Olgar. Merely follow her lead. Perhaps she’s thought of something in the last few minutes?” Piccio said hopefully, before turning his head to face me slightly. “You wouldn’t perhaps have Acting, would you Mr. Hart?”
“What, the skill? Um, no. No, I don’t.” At the look on his face, I couldn’t help myself. “Sorry.”
Piccio turned head back forward with a sigh. “Well, we can only hope, I suppose.”
……………………………………...
We made the rest of the short walk across the courtyard in silence. Piccio was trying to project confidence, while Azarus was visibly girding himself for the coming confrontation.
Personally, I was strangely calm. I had the least to lose here, honestly. I wanted to do my best so that Azarus didn’t catch any flak, obviously. But I wasn’t scared of some uppity noble trying to verbally browbeat me or anything. I wasn’t as scared of a social situation like this as much as I was of combat. Which was weird for me, honestly. Before I’d been dumped here, I’d been pretty socially anxious. I guess everything that had happened to me so far was helping to cure that.
Yay.
Once we reached the front of the palace, we came to stand in front of the massive double doors that marked the entrance. The gates themselves were huge, at least three stories high alone, with a prominent engraving of a raven in flight upon them. Standing in front of the gates was a squad of four of the avian-themed knights that had been guarding the gates to the district. Without a word to us, they stepped out of the way of the gate, just in time for them to start rumbling open on their own.
Azarus sighed. “The main doors, really? Hells…”
Piccio shot him a sympathetic glance before motioning us forward. Inside, I found that the palace was as opulent as I had expected it to be. Gold seemed to be the preeminent theme, with red accents. We seemed to be in some kind of atrium or something, as there were multiple other doors that led elsewhere. On the far side of the room were two more large sets of doors, thankfully not quite as big as the palace gates themselves.
“Come along.” I heard Piccio say to me, snapping me out of my rubbernecking. Flushing slightly, I glanced at him to see that he and Azarus were waiting for me. Piccio gestured towards the back. “The throne room is just beyond.”
I nodded slightly at him and fell into step. As we drew closer to the large double doors, I began to hear a low murmuring through them. It sounded like a great many people were conversing in low tones just inside. Reaching the doors, Piccio glanced back at the two of us. “Brace yourselves.” He said softly.
With a hard shove, belaying his short stature, Piccio opened the doors to the throne room with a grinding noise. With the sound of the doors opening, the conversation within audibly dropped from where we were standing.
“Announcing!” Piccio shouted from in front of us, blocking our view of the throne room. “Lord Azarus, of House Savoy! And his companion, Sir Nathan Hart!” When he finished, he smoothly stepped off to the side and bowed in Azarus’s direction.
Sir? I thought to myself. What the hell was that about?
With a hard look on his face, Azarus stepped through the doors to the throne room. After a moment, I followed him. Once I got a good look at the inside of the throne room, however, my steps faltered for a moment before I forced myself to continue walking. The throne room itself was massive, almost excessively so. Made of the same gilded red stone that the rest of the palace seemed to be, it must have at least been half the length of a football field from back home. The room didn’t have a normal ceiling, instead, it was lit by a glass ceiling that was letting in plenty of fading afternoon light. The orange hues of the setting sun lent an almost ethereal feel to the surroundings There was a main walkway that was laid out with a literal long, red carpet that ran the length of the room. On either side of the large, wide carpet were huge carved pillars that stretched to the monstrously high roof of the room, framing the glass.
However, what nearly stopped me in my tracks were all the damn people that lined the walls of the room. There were tons of them, with a large crowd visible in the distance blocking my view of what could only be the throne.
All of them had turned to face us in silence as we entered the room.
All right, I was wrong earlier. I was still pretty damn socially anxious.
Taking a breath to steady my nerves, I continued following Azarus down the carpet further into the room. With a boom that nearly made me flinch, I could hear the throne room doors close behind us and Piccio follow us. I tried to copy Azarus as best I could as we made our way through the huge hall, trying to face forward and keep my anxiety from my face. I don’t know how well I managed it.
Soon, we reached the mob of people that were blocking the view of the throne. Azarus stopped in front of them, stone-faced. I tried to remain slightly behind him. From out of the crowd stepped a bizarrely intimidating dwarf, with hair a darker red than even Azarus’s. I was reminded somewhat of the painted fops that I had seen earlier in the gardens, but only slightly. On this dwarf, it seemed more like war paint. His face was painted a stark, pale white with large, artful black splotches covering the outsides of his shining golden eyes. Large, sharp red lines, almost blade-like in appearance ran down from under his face, to curl around his mouth and painted lips. This dwarf was very obviously a noble as well, not just from the superior quality of his clothes, but from his beard. He might have had both the largest and smallest beard I’d seen on a noble. He had nothing on his cheeks and lips, but he had a long, braided beard that extended from his chin that reached to his belt line, capped off somehow with a large chunk of metal.
He was smiling faintly at Azarus.
Off to his side, I was able to see Azarus start to scowl. “Olgar.” He grunted.
“Azarus.” The painted dwarf replied in a deep, rough voice in a mocking tone. “Welcome home.”
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