P. Power - Knight Esquire

“So, I have to work on that, trying to be all playful and stuff? Seriously though, bring the boots. I expect to see you up and around tomorrow then? We have plans to make and can’t really do it all in here. Wensa, you too. The boots, I mean. Get a pair just in case.” This he managed with such a deadpan face that both women looked at him in slight shock before they busted up laughing.

“Good! No time to worry about little things, we have a war to win and Austrans to kill. Normally I’m kind of anti-killing, but right now I’m thinking of making some exceptions.” That sounded a lot darker than he meant it too, but got nods that didn’t seem self-pitying at all, so he left it at that and kissed Trice on the cheek, then, just to get a laugh did the same thing to Wensa. Oddly both women just nodded at him again. Ah, right. The rules. Tor had never even considered that the Royal Guards might have to follow them. Well, he’d just be nice to her. He didn’t really like her, but she’d helped save his life too, even if he was one hundredth and eighty-seventh on her list of people to protect at the party, that had to count for something.

Next Tor walked not just down the hall, but across the entire palace complex, needing to get directions twice, to find Rolph. He was sitting with Sara, and Ursala when Tor walked in.

“Heh, see and neither even bothered coming to visit me… I guess that means they pick you. Well. Told you so.” Tor smiled and collected hugs from both girls and winked at Rolph who groaned slightly.

“Damn, he found us. Well, now I have to stop being a wimp and complaining about my tummy hurting. I do have a whole new respect for you though. You didn’t even whimper after you were stabbed. I cried like a little girl.” He sounded ashamed of that for some reason, which Tor didn’t get at all.

“Ah, but you see, I’m probably the one person in the room that knows, first hand and recently, that crying like a little girl is a very serviceable option in response to that kind of pain. Though really, I doubt you actually did. Maybe you choked up, in a manly and regal way, but you didn’t scream or sob. I know that nearly one hundred percent.” Tor sounded confident. He was, so it worked for him.

Rolph smiled and gave him a serious look.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but how do you know? You were kind of out of it, saving us all, if I recall…”

“Easy. It hurts way too damn much to let your stomach move like that. So the loudest it comes out is kind of a stoic moan. Don’t worry, you did fine, and by the time they write songs about it you’ll probably have just shrugged the wounds of and gotten back to work almost immediately. Speaking of which, we have a meeting tomorrow. Planning. What do we need to do for the war effort and all that. Anyone with a brain that we can get to come. This isn’t anything official, so seriously, anyone. The guy that cleans the stables if he has anything to add… Trice is already coming, she doesn’t know it yet, but she is. I don’t know about Wensa, but I wouldn’t rule it out. Two broken legs and a dislocated arm don’t really sound like enough to stop her. I’ll spread the word and we can see who shows. Late luncheon?”

Tor said this all smoothly, as if he actually had a plan and wasn’t just trying to give his friends something to do that they could physically manage, maybe at least, so that they wouldn’t let themselves stew too long worrying about things they couldn’t fix right now. Sara was staying at her house, but Ursala had a room in the palace, which she was sharing with another Countess. She didn’t know if the other woman would object to him being there, but the tall blond took Tor’s hand and led him along to the shared space anyway. If that didn’t work he could always grab a blanket and find that utility closet again.

In the room the other woman stared at him when he came in then stood, and bowed low.

“Master Tor.” She said simply. The woman looked a little familiar, thinner now, light hair that wasn’t really blond, but wasn’t brown either, being something in between. She was the one that the other counts had listened too in that long ago meeting, he remembered.

Tor bowed back and stepped forward, his hand out which, oddly got him pulled into a tight embrace.

“Thank you for saving me so that I can make good my vow to destroy Count Ward.” The woman didn’t let him go for a while. Finally, when she did, Tor got it. She was the one that survived, but whose husband had died when poisoned. Holly something? He didn’t know.

“Sorry, I recognize you of course, but unless we want to play a game of me not knowing your name for the night while trying to figure it out without seeming like a moron, I need a full introduction I think. It’s Holly…” Tor winced realizing she was within her rights to chew him out for not starting with her title. Instead she bowed again.

“Holly Printer. Countess Printer if it comes to that, but you can call me dog girl if it will get you to keep helping me.”

Tor smiled.

“Let’s go with Holly, if that’s all right? At least in private? And as for me, I’m just Tor. Torrence Baker if it’s something official. No title of note or anything. Definitely not a Master Builder yet, as I learned the hard way the other day. I built those shields and it left everyone totally open to electrical attack and that death dust. I need to fix that as soon as possible. Sorry, not the topic… That I’m just Tor is actually what I was going for.”

Holly didn’t laugh, but she smiled gently. Ursala explained the shortage of beds and Holly shrugged without comment. The other woman had a hard feeling about her, the kind of thing that suggested total commitment to a cause in Tor’s mind. Sleep with a short builder in the room? Fine. As long as it didn’t stop her from reaching her goal. The destruction of Ward.

Well, Tor could do a bit to help there maybe, while he waited for Trice to heal up enough to travel. He’d said two weeks, but that was pretty silly. If she even got herself to the restroom the next day he’d be happy with her.

The next morning he had supplies flown in from his house and started making copies of military gear until the meeting that was supposed to take place late in the afternoon. It was put in a large meeting room, because, instead of the five or six people he’d expected, nearly a hundred had shown up. Most of them royals, but a few were palace servants, some Royal Guards as well. To his surprise the kitchen boy and girl that had been burned were sitting not too far down the table, about half way, with a few sitting Counts lower than they were on the table. Tor nodded to them somberly. Their friend Laura had been killed. Of course they came.

The King sat near the head of the vast table, but not at it. He gestured regally and smiled.

“Torrence Green Baker of Two Bends, County Lairdgren, Countier four Lairdgren, savior of Galasia, protector of Rossalynd and defender of Ford against nature herself, Master Builder and man of true valor, please kneel.”

Everyone stared.

Tor blushed.

Then he knelt as instructed, before Rich had to push him down.

“Let it be known before all present, that if not for this one man, most of us wouldn’t be here to witness this event. Arise Sir Torrence, true Knight of the realm.”

Almost as one, embarrassingly enough, the room stood, including Connie.

“Welcome Sir Torrence.” She said softly, a tear in her eye.

“Sir Torrence.” The room spoke as one then, not somberly, but without humor in their voices. Then again, if the King claimed he was a Knight, then he kind of was, right? Richard even pulled out a paper that said he so and handed it to him with a smile.

“I’ll forgo the reading of merits and accolades, since we don’t have all day. Now, Tor, since you called this meeting, perhaps you’d share with us your plan?”