P. Power - Knight of the Realm

Turmoil rose within the man suddenly, fear even, as incongruent as that seemed coming from a royal giant. Still his head high he answered, a stream of what appeared to be more or less honesty behind it. Not perfect and not complete, but mainly the truth as he saw it.

“Yes. I… knew it had that potential. I'd hoped to keep it from you, but felt it was needed, only…”

Tor walked away from the man abruptly, not needing to hear any excuses, and questioned each of the others in turn, using the same kind of focus with each, trying to feel the truth or the lie within them. It was a lot more complicated than not, but no one here had been working with Smythe to harm him at least. Well, that was something. He could work with that, couldn't he? When he got to Trice he stopped and added a single question at the end.

“Did you ever love me at all, or even… Even like me a little?” It sounded sad and tiny, like he was a child.

Her answer shocked him, since it wasn't what he expected at all. He'd figured that she, possibly, liked him as a friend, or even felt little to nothing for him, but probably didn't hate him overly. He steeled himself for that. Her hatred.

“Tor… I love you. I have for a long time.” She said simply, real love, pure and untainted rolling of her for a few moments. Then a wave of sadness joined in. He almost had to go sit down it was so strong, he turned away instead. The only one left was Ursala then. Sighing he asked her the same questions, not if she loved him, that was a moot point anyway. He hadn't asked anyone else that either.

Then, none of the rest of them had publicly maligned him. Not that he knew about.

She was dressed in brown fighting leathers and clearly felt mixed emotions about him, but hadn't been working with Smythe to do anything to him. Indeed, she barely knew the man at all.

“Why are you mad at me?” He asked quietly. She flinched, but didn't turn away.

“You're trying to help them. Marvin and his bitch. They killed my family Tor! I know they did. No one else would have bothered, would they? You may be able to look past an attempt on your life, but your better than almost anyone I've ever known. I can't look past it. Or my parents, my child…”

Well, that made sense. Still, Tor wasn't planning to help the Wards, just stop a war and get at the truth. He let the tall blond Countess know that again and nodded to her.

“If they killed your people, they'll die Ursala, I promise you that, even if I have to kill them myself. Even they know this. The only thing I'm asking for is the truth. If they didn't do it, then it would be wrong to punish them for it.”

Taking a shuddering breath she examined his face closely for a moment, her feelings for him were warm enough over all, but a single flare of revulsion tore through her too.

“What?” He asked suddenly, worried that he was just too ugly to look at or something. After he explained what he was doing she looked down, her face going red.

“Oh, that… well, it's nothing really, but…” Taking a deep breath she just dove in.

“I hate your beard.”

For the first time in weeks, Tor laughed, and meant it.

Tor was exhausted.

Really, he could barely keep his eyes open and just wanted to go home and sleep for about half a week. Only, of course, he didn't have a home any more. So that meant he needed to collect his things and find a place to stay soonish, or at least get out of the city so that when he curled up on the ground to nap no one would care. All he needed was his stuff and maybe directions to an inn. Tor had never stayed in one before, so it would be an adventure. Too much had been lately. For a moment he really just wanted to go back to Two Bends and take up baking as a profession.

Well, too late for that now.

Maybe somewhere else though?

The King gestured and suggested that Tor's luggage be found and brought to them, even while the Queen, Rolph and Varley tried to talk him into staying with them. Oddly it was only the middle child that stayed quiet, finally shaking her head when Rolph looked to her for support in his suggestion that they turn the guest house over to Tor for the duration.

“No. Don't any of you see? The army took his home from him. That means we did. Well dad at least. Or maybe Alphie, since you could have said no and told them to get out. That was after they barred him from it and then attacked him for coming in anyway. His own home! What would any of us do if the guards here attacked us? That's an act of war, our military striking out at a Countier like that without cause, and everyone’s acting like it was just a lark or something! Stay here? I'm amazed he even brought the Wards letters to us. If it were me I would have paid a currier and called it good. Then when he does come, because stopping a civil war is more important to him than his own pride or dignity, we let him be attacked by one of the highest government officials in all Noram. Again. Why isn't anyone talking about that? Why wasn't the man put to death after the first attack? Or at least removed from office? And was he behind the attack at Tor's house? He's the head of the military and clever enough to set something like that up, we all know that. It's part of why he has the job. What do we even know about why he did it?”

The King sighed and put his right hand on his head. After a while he spoke, his voice sounding nearly as tired already as Tor felt.

“Smythe was scared honey. He's an old man and the worlds just changing too fast for him. Tor represents 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.