King Kormwind, tenth of that name. Looked upon the kid that had tried to drive a blade into him.
"What lord sent you?"
The kid shook their head, eyes wide with terror, their thin hands still grasping at a blade long since removed from them.
"Alright, first food, then medical care, then a bath and rest. Then I find out what idiot needs correcting this time." -- Lessons
His dad had warned him about shit like this. He told it as the tale of the young lout in the squash court, but the moral was plain. Sooner or later, his own muscle memory was going to nearly fucking kill some poor sod who didn't deserve it.
This particular whelp had managed to sneak into the castle grounds dressed as one of the Castle Boys. She had a paring knife hidden in her belt, which she almost cut off in the act of trying to draw it and then stab him.
King Kormwind Arachis Felbourne Whitekeep, tenth of the name, was known to his friends and immediate family as Dex. He'd also been taught by a Master of the Art of Shadows since he could walk.
It was a matter of seconds to take the attacking thrust and turn it against his attacker. In a second more, he recognised his attacker as an actual child and pulled a few muscles straining to turn his motion into merely disarming her, sending her tumbling along the carpeted hall rather than headlong into a wall.
He'd pay for that over the next few days. Better his pain than a child's head staved in.
She recovered her feet and tried leaping for her blade. He held it out of her reach. "Were you sent or did you think this would fix something for you?" he asked.
There wasn't a lot of leap in her. After the first adrenaline-fueled desperate attempt, she had a few more pathetic hops before staggering to a halt with a wall for support.
"Go ahead and kill me," she spat.
"No, thank you," said Dex. "I'd rather know what made you try this."
Her stomach spoke for her.
"But first... A decent meal seems to be in order. Then you can tell me your story."
"But I tried to kill you," she said. "That's... treason or something."
"It's only treason if you're a citizen of Whitekeep. If you're from somewhere else, then it's an attempted coup by technicality. You can discuss the details with me over a decent soup and some bread. I can easily call it a negotiation with a disgruntled citizen petitioning for the grace and mercy of the King."
"You can do that?"
"I do kind of happen to be in charge around here," he said. "You are disgruntled, and given your current situation, you would be petitioning for the grace and mercy of the King."
She stared up at the knife, and clutched at her pants as the belt started to give. "Yeah. You're right." She offered her hands for shackles.
He took one as if she were his daughter. "There's a garden table near here. I can send for a meal. Problems seem a lot less dire on a full stomach, I've noticed."
[Photo by Sven Brandsma on Unsplash]
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