Norman stood in his council room staring out the window with his back to the sole other occupant in the room. The large Troivackian King stood with his shoulders straight, and his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. Should anyone have looked upon the man, they’d have thought he were engaging in a casual conversation about the weather.

If Prince Henry, Brendan Devark’s brother had peered in, however, he would be most amused to see his brother looking ever so slightly… scared? Nervous?

“We will speak candidly, Brendan. As this pertains to my daughter, and we are alone, you are not a King right now. You are a man courting my child, and less than an hour ago, you said something to her that made her cry. I want an explanation. Now.”

Norman turned, and finally faced the Troivackian who silently admitted the hardness in the Daxarian King’s eyes nearly made him avert his gaze and shift the weight in his feet.

“Your daughter- the Princess… Princess Alina was drawing my attention to a comment I said in the training ring pertaining to Viscount Ashowan’s heir. It had not been said with any insult intended, but apparently was interpreted badly,” Brendan finished while noting that his heart rate had increased for some strange reason…

“Why was she crying?” the elder demanded imperiously.

Brendan balked.

A moment of weakness.

He hadn’t had one of those in years…

“I… do not know. She sounded more angry than saddened. I think.” Brendan's hand at his side began to clench gently.

“You think? Were you not present for the exchange?” Norman asked darkly.

“I was, but I can’t understand what was said that would cause the Princess to become emotional. I hear some women during their monthly courses-”

“If you finish that sentence I will have you thrown into a cell for the rest of the night.”

Brendan’s eyebrows shot up. “Your Majesty, I do not understand. What have I said to cause such hostility?”

Norman’s murderous glare studied the frozen face of the Troivackian King for several more moments. “I cannot tell if you are being willfully ignorant, or if you truly do not know what you have said.”

Growing irritated, Brendan’s stunned expression fell to a very flat exasperated scowl. “I’m beginning to think we are speaking a different language. I haven’t the slightest idea what has everyone so upset.”

“Alright, alright… I sincerely hope you mean what you say. Otherwise the next few hours will be painful for no reason.”

Brendan let out a disgruntled sigh. “As long as some clarification is- wait, hours?”

“Guards, please summon Lord Ashowan, Captain Taylor, Lord Fuks, and- Gods help us, Mage Keith Lee.”

“Sire, what about Mr. Howard?” one of the guards called back through the door, a note of excitement in his voice.

“Ah yes, of course!” Norman replied with a slightly manic glint in his eyes as he turned to face the younger man once more. “Prepare yourself, Brendan Devark, King of Troivack. It is time you learned a few things.”

*

“So… I… am confused about what is happening,” Henry announced while glancing across the table at the row of Daxarian men all in civilian garb with a small frown etched between his eyebrows.

Wine bottles and one lone bottle of Troivackian moonshine were floating around the table filling goblets. Meanwhile, trays of cold meats, cheese, and fruit were laid in the middle of the table.

Norman remained standing at the head of the table, his shoulders straight, and a lively glow around him that no one had seen since before Ainsley’s death. “Gentlemen, I have asked you all here to help understand and explain what the King of Troivack has done to upset the Princess, and how he insulted Lord Tamlin Ashowan.”

“You insulted Tam?” Fin interjected while fixing the Troivackian King who sat across from him with his brother at his side.

“I thought I was offering him a compliment,” Brendan growled, not liking the magical glow in the Viscount’s eyes.

“Ah, I understand,” Henry interrupted, his good natured smile returning. “Brother, did you summon me to translate?”

“Translate?! Have I finally gone senile? I thought we were all speaking the same language! Godsdamnit Les might’ve been right-” Lord Fuks burst out with great alarm, which somehow lessened the tension in the room greatly.

“Ah, pardon me, Earl Fuks- great name by the way,” Henry added on with a roguish smile.

“You have good taste.” Lord Fuks settled immediately and grinned peacefully.

“I thank you for the compliment. What I meant about translating, however, is that… well… the Troivackian King is straightforward to a fault, but… he is often misunderstood. He also doesn’t understand when people interpret things in a way he can’t empathize with.”

“Henry, you will mind your tongue,” Brendan warned darkly.

“That means he might hit me over the back of the head if I keep talking about him as though he-”

The Troivackian King’s giant hand snaked out and cuffed his brother’s head roughly.

“I believe I understand. Prince Henry is the hear as someone with a deeo understanding of both yourself and those with a more... sensitive... nature,” Mr. Howard volunteered while tucking into a plate already ladened with food and a goblet filled to the brim with wine.

“I don’t think I understand anything,” Keith Lee informed everyone while blinking in confusion.

There was a beat of silence before Norman resumed control of the conversation. “Your Majesty, would you please recount what you said to both Lord Tam Ashowan and my daughter, verbatim.”

Looking as though he would much rather be on a battlefield bathed in blood and corpses in that moment, the Troivackian King slowly, and painfully, recounted his exchange with the young lord and Princess. Though he left the details about his suspicions surrounding the Ashowan family out of it.

By the end of the tale, all men around the table were a tableau of extreme reactions.

Norman stood frozen, clearly trying not to launch himself at the younger King to throttle him. Keith Lee was still frowning trying to understand, Mr. Howard had his face covered with both hands, Captain Taylor was cringing and trying to hide the expression by rubbing his forehead fervidly. Lord Fuks was laughing hysterically, and Finlay Ashowan looked both appalled and flabbergasted at the same time.

Feeling his rage rise over his embarrassment, Brendan turned to his brother, only to find that he too was staring at him with his mouth hung open and his eyes wide in mortification.

“AaaaAAAUUGHHH!” Mr. Howard let out a loud moan mixed shout before he dropped his hands from his face to regard the Troivackian King again. “You genuinely don’t know that it is considered beyond rude, and-”

“Bullyish,” Captain Taylor added before being able to stop himself.

“Yes, bullyish. To tell a Princess that she will marry you and that is the end of the discussion? Without you having talked with her father? Without allowing her to attend all her courting dates?”

“Before the ball?!” Keith Lee interrupted having finally caught up and then equally exasperated.

“Right! Before the bloody ball!” Mr. Howard added, his hysteria mounting.

“Brother… that was… not your finest moment,” Henry’s voice was quieter than the others, but his was the one that made Brendan turn, and a shadow of pain passed through his eyes. An old wound had been touched upon unbeknownst to most present.

“Our union would be beneficial for both kingdoms. I thought that if it were an acceptable match that it made the most sense,” Brendan explained, his voice unexpectedly hoarse.

“Your Majesty,” Finlay Ashowan’s calm voice passed over the table, making Brendan visibly tense and his expression grow shuttered once more as he turned to face the Viscount. “The Princess is an intelligent young woman who is stronger than many know. You attempted to undermine her judgment, and take any power she has in this situation. Do you understand?”

As much as Brendan wanted to dismiss anything the witch had to say or question it, the man wasn’t actually being condescending. He was explaining patiently, without any derision in his tone.

“In Troivack, our women have no say in these matters. Their judgments are saved for managing the education of children until they are six years old. Then they split their arranged lessons with the father’s education path for them. Our women manage the household, and even some of the financial accounts. However, pertaining to large scale decisions such as marriage and business, they are seldom a part of them,” Henry explained, his face blank as he subtly defended his brother’s behavior.

“I'm aware of your customs. Which is what brings me to ask, why is it you know differently?” Norman turned to the Prince, his voice deceptively calm.

“Ah… I am not what is considered normal in Troivack. If it weren’t for my brother being the King, I would most likely be exiled as a radical… However… that is why-”

“-That is why I believe Princess Alina will one day be a good fit for Troivack,” Brendan began slowly, his shoulders beginning to straighten once more.

“What do you mean, Sire?” Mr. Howard asked, leaning forward with his hands clasped tightly together.

“She composes herself with dignity and can express herself well when she overcomes her fear. I believe once she becomes more self-assured, she can help me bring change to Troivack’s attitude toward women garnering more say in our courts and laws.”

To say everyone was stunned would be an understatement.

“You… You wish to break Troivackian tradition?” Keith Lee spluttered in awe.

“Troivackia’s tradition is to be strong. I believe we can be stronger this way,” Brendan replied tonelessly. It was clear the whole ordeal was wearing on him greatly.

“What is it that brought about this opinion? It is quite different than the beliefs your father held,” Norman asked seriously.

At this an iciness settled in the Troivackian King’s stare. “That is a private matter. Now, aside from chastising me like an errant child, is there any use to this meeting?”

“You need to apologize to Alina, and to Tam,” Fin answered firmly, once again drawing Brendan’s stare to his own.

“Troivackians do not apologize.”

“But a man does,” Captain Taylor interjected wisely. “Man, or woman. A person of strength and honor can grow and regret their follies. Have you grown and regretted the offences you’ve committed, Your Majesty?”

Brendan’s gaze moved over to the military leader, and it was clear he didn’t wish to answer.

“If you still want a chance with the Princess I recommend it, Sire!” Lord Fuks interjected with a wry grin.

“I will not compete with lesser men for her hand,” Brendan replied with the corners of his eyes tightening slightly.

“Your opinion on who is the greater and who is the lesser is not relevant,” Fin’s hardened tone made everyone in the room grow tense. “It is who she prefers or deems worthy. What makes a man greater or lesser is relative, Your Majesty.”

There was a breath of silence, where everyone in the room could clearly glean the Viscount’s wish to verbally strip down the ruler's arrogant and stubborn attitude.

Standing abruptly, Brendan cast a dark stare amongst all the men present, then turned and left the chamber without a word. It was clear he was not going to stand being ganged up on in a hostile room.

When the door slammed shut, the walls of the castle shook.

Henry smiled nervously at the men before him. “I swear, he is a decent person. He’s loyal to a fault, it just… takes him a little longer to change than others.”

Picking up their goblets, most of the men drained their beverages in a single gulp.

“Who knows, perhaps the Princess already has someone else in mind,” Fin casually mentioned while locking eyes with the Prince.

Henry looked slightly uncomfortable and taken aback by the statement, but dissolved the awkwardness by smiling and reaching for the bottle of moonshine on the table and topping up his beverage.

“This is a nice little group get together… do you all do this often?” Henry asked lightly, while leaning back into his chair and changing the topic pointedly.

His tentative relaxation halted when he noticed the glances between everyone but Captain Taylor and mage Keith Lee.

“Back… during the war. This was my inner council,” Norman recounted, a sadness filled his hazel eyes until they darkened from the weight of the darkness. “The summer before the war… Alina was born, and we had the best of men here. Sadly Captain Antonio passed away six years ago now, my Ainsley three, and Keith’s father two… May the Gods rest their souls peacefully.”

Fin’s gaze dropped to his chalice as the somber mood moved over the group.

“AND I’LL BE NEXT!” Lord Fuks announced with a roar that felt too big for the shrivelled old man.

“Oh Gods, Dick, you know saying things like that makes people uncomfortable-” Norman began to say despite his lips twitching ever so slightly.

“NO! Don’t brush this off! Those other arses stole the full glory my funeral was supposed to have by dying first! Now you’re all always just a little bit sad all the ruddy time! It’s not the same! I will be the next to die, and you all will show up drunk with your wives or so help me Gods- I WILL CRAWL OUT OF MY GRAVE AND MAKE YOU DO IT RIGHT!” The senile old man had risen from his chair and shook his shriveled fist to the heavens, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury.

“You want the women drunk too, my Lord?” Prince Henry asked, unable to stop himself even though he had been warned about the man's... antics. In truth, he was finding it rather difficult not to break down into hysterics... then again he was not alone in that struggle from the looks of the men's faces...

Then of course, Lord Fuks drove the final nail home.

“OF COURSE! I WANT AT LEAST FIVE BABES CONCEIVED THANKS TO MY DEATH!”

Sir Taylor and Fin were the first to succumb to their uncontrollable laughter and snorts, closely followed by the King himself whose shoulders were quivering right before he let out the loudest boom of a 'HA' anyone had ever heard from him. Soon afterwards Keith Lee joined, though more so because the laughs were contagious.

Leaning over to Mr. Howard who was the last one not laughing, Prince Henry couldn’t help but ask, “Is Lord Fuks senile? Or...?”

“Believe it or not he has mellowed over the years,” Kevin Howard replied seriously before he proceeded to drain his cup yet again. Though even the perpetual grumpy assistant had a hard time hiding his smile as the room erupted in much needed fun.

It truly had been too long.