Talechaser ~ Hostile
Mar. 26th, 2007 03:33 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Lessons
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ Talechasing challenge for 1 November 06. This went in a completely different direction to what I was planning XD; Think it works better this way tho, yay.
~ ~ ~
Mithé sighed and rested his hands over his stomach, a contented smile on his face.
‘Told you it was good.’ He could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his son’s voice.
‘Mmm,’ Mithé agreed. ‘I’d still prefer to wind down the day with a beer.’
‘Oh of course,’ Nolryn said, the nonchalant shrug evident in his tone. ‘But when you’ve been deprived of beer and haven’t been able to feel your appendages for two or three months, this stuff is sheer brilliance. Kurae reckons he’s still perfecting the recipe though.’
Mithé nodded slowly and looked regretfully at his empty mug which had once contained hot chocolate. ‘Needs more of a kick, I think.’
‘Mmm, he’s searching for the perfect cocoa liqueur to go in it, preferably that one that Shizaaqa drinks.’
The king grinned wryly. ‘He may well get to ask her in a few months.’ He slitted his eyes open to glance at his son.
Nolryn returned the statement with a flat look before he shook his head and closed his eyes again. ‘I don’t even want to know if you’re being serious with that or not. I just don’t want to know.’
Mithé closed his eyes and chuckled quietly.
The door at the back of the room creaked open and soft footsteps shuffled over to the collection of armchairs. Mithé cracked his eyes open again and tried not to glare at the intruding messenger.
‘Forgive the intrusion, Majesty, Highness,’ the boy said with an apologetic bow, ‘but my news is of the gravest importance.’
Mithé swung his feet down from the foot rest so he could sit up straight, trying not to groan. ‘Out with it, then.’
‘One of the Llayan visitors has been attacked. He’s in the palace healing house now, but the healers say his injuries are most likely fatal.’
Nolryn swore between his teeth next to him. Mithé was tempted to do the same.
‘Which one?’ he demanded instead. ‘When? Who by?’
The messenger boy blinked at the king’s quick fire questions, but didn’t hesitate for long. ‘His name was Chrissantino,’ he answered, his tongue slipping over the foreign name. ‘He and the other three were returning to the palace a few hours ago when they were attacked just outside the palace walls. The guards said they could hear something, but dismissed it as a general lower-city scuffle until they heard one of the Llayans yell out. When they got there, the attackers had run off.’
Mithé sighed angrily through his nose and rubbed his face with one hand. ‘Who was supposed to be their escort?’
‘I don’t know, Majesty,’ the boy answered, slightly nervously. ‘The crime department only gave me that message. They said you’re welcome to come down and see what’s happening, but advised you’d be better off coming down tomorrow morning when they can give a full report.’
The king nodded and clasped his hands under his chin. ‘Thank you,’ he muttered by way of dismissal. ‘Let them know I’ll be down there soon.’
The messenger boy bowed and let himself out.
Nolryn swore again, then slapped his thighs and got to his feet. ‘I’m going to the healing house. I’ll meet you in the crime labs afterwards.’
Mithé nodded. ‘Don’t do anything rash like promising him we’ll find his attacker.’
‘In the lower city?’ The prince snorted. ‘I’ll tell him we’ll do our best, but not to get his hopes up.’ He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair, resting back against the door frame. ‘What is wrong with Llayans? We tell them what parts of the city to avoid, then waltz straight in without an escort. I thought Chrissantino was one of the smarter ones, too.’
‘He did give that impression,’ Mithé agreed as he frowned at his empty mug, deep in thought.
There was no way they would be able to find the people who had attacked the Llayans. It was hard enough finding organised killers, but in the lower districts, where targets were picked by the amount of gold dripping from their fingers? It would be impossible. He wished he could give some sort of comfort to Chrissantino, if he lived through his injuries at all.
He glanced up, realising that Nolryn had fallen silent, but there had been no creak to tell him his son had left for the healing house.
‘What if he dies?’ he asked, a hint of worry behind the question. ‘I liked Chrissantino.’
Mithé shook his head. ‘That’s up to the other three Llayans. We’ll suspend negotiations though, obviously.’
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ He raked his hair back with his fingers again. ‘What do we do about the lower city? Mugging is one thing, but why go so close to killing the guy?’
Mithé gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘If we could find an answer to that one, Nolryn, we’d be the first in four thousand years to do so. There are some problems we can fix, but most of them we just have to deal with.’
Nolryn was frowning curiously as Mithé dragged himself to his feet. ‘Bit of a defeatist attitude there, Majesty.’
‘No, just realist. You won’t be able to fix every problem, and you’ll never be able to make everyone happy. Half the job is deciding what can be fixed, and what has to simply be dealt with. Violence in the lower districts is one of those.’
The prince was still frowning, arms folded. ‘You’re not even going to try?’
Mithé shook his head again. ‘The crime department does what it can to keep it to a minimum. The bigger problems, they bring to me immediately, but general wear and tear of the city gets written up in the weekly report, along with what they’re doing about it. This is why I keep telling you about delegation. You can’t do everything yourself. Trust the people working under you.’
‘But we know they’ll never find Chrissantino’s attackers. They could be anyone from that district. There’s no way of knowing.’
‘I know.’ The king sighed and folded his arms, wondering how to truthfully put Nolryn’s mind at ease and yet knowing that he couldn’t. He’d been just as ambitious when he had been crowned king, thinking he could solve all the kingdom’s problems just like that. It had taken him a good year or two of stress and worry to realise that if it were that simple, it would have been done centuries ago.
‘When you’re in Kazin,’ he began, ‘you don’t fight everything that comes at you, do you?’
Nolryn shook his head.
‘No. You weigh it up in your mind and decide which fights you can win and which ones would leave you dead in the mud. And it’s not just you fighting. You trust the others around you to do their bit and keep you from getting shot in the back, and you do the same for them.’
‘These aren’t black horses though,’ Nolryn argued. ‘It’s not the same thing. We’re royalty, we deal with the big problems, and fatal mugging in the lower districts is a big problem.’
‘Would you rather send the Own out there to deal with it? Have the military roaming the streets?’ Mithé rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, aware that his frustration with himself could often be mistaken for anger with whoever he was talking to at the time. ‘I’m sorry, Nolryn, but we do what we can. If you can think of any way of stopping fatal muggings that doesn’t involve sticking a First Company archer on every rooftop and a swordie at every street corner, then I’m all ears. Until then, we just have to deal with what comes.’
The prince sighed, the beginnings of a growl in the back of his throat as he glared off to the side. ‘I’m going to the healing house,’ he forced through a tight jaw. ‘I’ll meet you in the crime labs.’
He yanked the door open and disappeared irritably through it, thankfully not slamming it behind him.
Mithé sighed and thudded his back against the wall. He’d tried to make it as easy as possible for Nolryn, especially since Mithé had learnt the reality the hard way. Maybe in this case, the hard way was the only way. Nolryn would learn eventually. Mithé could only hope that his words would mean he’d learn quicker than he had himself.
He pushed himself away from the wall and rubbed his face with one hand, then trudged out the door and made for the crime labs.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ Talechasing challenge for 1 November 06. This went in a completely different direction to what I was planning XD; Think it works better this way tho, yay.
Mithé sighed and rested his hands over his stomach, a contented smile on his face.
‘Told you it was good.’ He could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his son’s voice.
‘Mmm,’ Mithé agreed. ‘I’d still prefer to wind down the day with a beer.’
‘Oh of course,’ Nolryn said, the nonchalant shrug evident in his tone. ‘But when you’ve been deprived of beer and haven’t been able to feel your appendages for two or three months, this stuff is sheer brilliance. Kurae reckons he’s still perfecting the recipe though.’
Mithé nodded slowly and looked regretfully at his empty mug which had once contained hot chocolate. ‘Needs more of a kick, I think.’
‘Mmm, he’s searching for the perfect cocoa liqueur to go in it, preferably that one that Shizaaqa drinks.’
The king grinned wryly. ‘He may well get to ask her in a few months.’ He slitted his eyes open to glance at his son.
Nolryn returned the statement with a flat look before he shook his head and closed his eyes again. ‘I don’t even want to know if you’re being serious with that or not. I just don’t want to know.’
Mithé closed his eyes and chuckled quietly.
The door at the back of the room creaked open and soft footsteps shuffled over to the collection of armchairs. Mithé cracked his eyes open again and tried not to glare at the intruding messenger.
‘Forgive the intrusion, Majesty, Highness,’ the boy said with an apologetic bow, ‘but my news is of the gravest importance.’
Mithé swung his feet down from the foot rest so he could sit up straight, trying not to groan. ‘Out with it, then.’
‘One of the Llayan visitors has been attacked. He’s in the palace healing house now, but the healers say his injuries are most likely fatal.’
Nolryn swore between his teeth next to him. Mithé was tempted to do the same.
‘Which one?’ he demanded instead. ‘When? Who by?’
The messenger boy blinked at the king’s quick fire questions, but didn’t hesitate for long. ‘His name was Chrissantino,’ he answered, his tongue slipping over the foreign name. ‘He and the other three were returning to the palace a few hours ago when they were attacked just outside the palace walls. The guards said they could hear something, but dismissed it as a general lower-city scuffle until they heard one of the Llayans yell out. When they got there, the attackers had run off.’
Mithé sighed angrily through his nose and rubbed his face with one hand. ‘Who was supposed to be their escort?’
‘I don’t know, Majesty,’ the boy answered, slightly nervously. ‘The crime department only gave me that message. They said you’re welcome to come down and see what’s happening, but advised you’d be better off coming down tomorrow morning when they can give a full report.’
The king nodded and clasped his hands under his chin. ‘Thank you,’ he muttered by way of dismissal. ‘Let them know I’ll be down there soon.’
The messenger boy bowed and let himself out.
Nolryn swore again, then slapped his thighs and got to his feet. ‘I’m going to the healing house. I’ll meet you in the crime labs afterwards.’
Mithé nodded. ‘Don’t do anything rash like promising him we’ll find his attacker.’
‘In the lower city?’ The prince snorted. ‘I’ll tell him we’ll do our best, but not to get his hopes up.’ He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair, resting back against the door frame. ‘What is wrong with Llayans? We tell them what parts of the city to avoid, then waltz straight in without an escort. I thought Chrissantino was one of the smarter ones, too.’
‘He did give that impression,’ Mithé agreed as he frowned at his empty mug, deep in thought.
There was no way they would be able to find the people who had attacked the Llayans. It was hard enough finding organised killers, but in the lower districts, where targets were picked by the amount of gold dripping from their fingers? It would be impossible. He wished he could give some sort of comfort to Chrissantino, if he lived through his injuries at all.
He glanced up, realising that Nolryn had fallen silent, but there had been no creak to tell him his son had left for the healing house.
‘What if he dies?’ he asked, a hint of worry behind the question. ‘I liked Chrissantino.’
Mithé shook his head. ‘That’s up to the other three Llayans. We’ll suspend negotiations though, obviously.’
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ He raked his hair back with his fingers again. ‘What do we do about the lower city? Mugging is one thing, but why go so close to killing the guy?’
Mithé gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘If we could find an answer to that one, Nolryn, we’d be the first in four thousand years to do so. There are some problems we can fix, but most of them we just have to deal with.’
Nolryn was frowning curiously as Mithé dragged himself to his feet. ‘Bit of a defeatist attitude there, Majesty.’
‘No, just realist. You won’t be able to fix every problem, and you’ll never be able to make everyone happy. Half the job is deciding what can be fixed, and what has to simply be dealt with. Violence in the lower districts is one of those.’
The prince was still frowning, arms folded. ‘You’re not even going to try?’
Mithé shook his head again. ‘The crime department does what it can to keep it to a minimum. The bigger problems, they bring to me immediately, but general wear and tear of the city gets written up in the weekly report, along with what they’re doing about it. This is why I keep telling you about delegation. You can’t do everything yourself. Trust the people working under you.’
‘But we know they’ll never find Chrissantino’s attackers. They could be anyone from that district. There’s no way of knowing.’
‘I know.’ The king sighed and folded his arms, wondering how to truthfully put Nolryn’s mind at ease and yet knowing that he couldn’t. He’d been just as ambitious when he had been crowned king, thinking he could solve all the kingdom’s problems just like that. It had taken him a good year or two of stress and worry to realise that if it were that simple, it would have been done centuries ago.
‘When you’re in Kazin,’ he began, ‘you don’t fight everything that comes at you, do you?’
Nolryn shook his head.
‘No. You weigh it up in your mind and decide which fights you can win and which ones would leave you dead in the mud. And it’s not just you fighting. You trust the others around you to do their bit and keep you from getting shot in the back, and you do the same for them.’
‘These aren’t black horses though,’ Nolryn argued. ‘It’s not the same thing. We’re royalty, we deal with the big problems, and fatal mugging in the lower districts is a big problem.’
‘Would you rather send the Own out there to deal with it? Have the military roaming the streets?’ Mithé rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, aware that his frustration with himself could often be mistaken for anger with whoever he was talking to at the time. ‘I’m sorry, Nolryn, but we do what we can. If you can think of any way of stopping fatal muggings that doesn’t involve sticking a First Company archer on every rooftop and a swordie at every street corner, then I’m all ears. Until then, we just have to deal with what comes.’
The prince sighed, the beginnings of a growl in the back of his throat as he glared off to the side. ‘I’m going to the healing house,’ he forced through a tight jaw. ‘I’ll meet you in the crime labs.’
He yanked the door open and disappeared irritably through it, thankfully not slamming it behind him.
Mithé sighed and thudded his back against the wall. He’d tried to make it as easy as possible for Nolryn, especially since Mithé had learnt the reality the hard way. Maybe in this case, the hard way was the only way. Nolryn would learn eventually. Mithé could only hope that his words would mean he’d learn quicker than he had himself.
He pushed himself away from the wall and rubbed his face with one hand, then trudged out the door and made for the crime labs.