To Earn a Crown

[Bloodstalker]

For years the stately king of Carylon had held court in these very halls. Sitting dejectedly upon his throne, he considered for a moment. In this throne room he had forged alliances, seen kingdoms fall away as enemy diplomats had kneeled before his feet, pledging the fealty of their lords to his realm. Countless times had he sat in judgment as hardened criminals and even madmen had awaited the swift hand of justice. Always before had he been careful, meticulous in his dealings. His verdicts had always been fair, at times harsh, but those had been hard times. He had never used his power to subjigate the innocent, only to deliver the guilty to the swift retribution demanded by the laws he had taken an oath to uphold on the day of his coronation. All in all, he had been a good king to his way of thinking. Yes, a fair and good king, as was evidenced by the love that his people bore for him. Carylon was upheld as a light among the kingdoms, a place where the population was free to go about it's own daily workings without being regulated and taxed into despair. He had done his best, and in that, he had cemented the the adoration of the masses, the love of the army, the favor of the Gods themselves.

So, why had he been cursed with such a mental midget as a son and heir to his throne?

His gaze looked out across the now hushed gathering, his attendents and counsel stunned into awed silence to look upon his son. Outwardly, the boy was all a father could hope for. Standing well over six feet, a body full of the power and agility of youth. His clear blues eyes burned with a fire of a spirit not yet bound by the passage of time, eager for new experience as he stood before his father in a suit of shining armor, his blonde hair hanging loosly upon his shoulders. Yes, the boy was the picture of what a prince should be, save for the idiotic grin on his face that seemed to advertise to all who looked upon his regal countenance that something was sorely amiss between his ears.

Gathering all the patience he could muster, King Everend Corathalin addressed his son Marcius with all the fatherly love and understanding he could.


" Have you you lost your damn mind boy?" He roared, his voice echoing through the halls and causing many in attendance to jerk back to the awareness of rational thought.

Marcius only smiled that irritatingly tolerant smile of his. He had expected this. His father was a good enough sort, but old, and he hadn't really expected him to understand. He gently reminded himself that he would have to be patient here, it took time for new ideas to get through to some people.

"At ease father," he spoke in a soothing tone, "I have merely come to inform you of my decision. I have thought long and hard about this.."

"Gods that must have hurt" Everend grumbled under his breath, barely even denting the momentum Marcius had built as the boy merely grinned that fool grin and nodded sympathetically before continuing.

"It has come to me that I am not in a position that I am able to follow you in line to the throne. It would be immoral of me to accept the crown on the mere basis of bloodline. It is imperitive that I prove my worth both to you and to the people of Carylon in order to secure my place as ruler"

"You do know I am not dead as of yet, don't you?" the king asked, not at all sure that his son could indeed grasp that fact on his own.

"Oh, of course father," Marcius replied. " Thus it behooves me to seek my fame now, wilst there are yet years of good health before you. "

Everend looked with a sincere disgust on his son before putting the pieces together somewhat."So, you want to go on a quest of some sort to prove your ability?"

"Exactly my Father"

Everend considered for a moment. He couldn't really fault the boys intentions here, he could even see how Marcius's hold on the throne would be weak at best, taking into account the entire kingdom knew he was a raving lunatic. Maybe it would help the boy grow up, maybe, just maybe, his son could at least become an adult thinking madman.

"Very well," he sighed. "I suppose I can't stop you short of putting you in chains. Would you mind at least honoring the court with the nature of your quest?"

"Why, to rescue the Damsel of course" the boy grinned back with that infuriating look of sheer and blissful ignorance.

"what damsel?" His mother, Queen Ereasa asked blankly, filling the gap of her sputtering husbands speech quite nicely.

"why, the Damsel held captive by the Dragon of course" Marcius replied, as if that fact should have been self evident.

"Dammit boy, what dragon?" his father managed to interject, having at last found his voice again.

"My Father," the idiot bgan with a condescending tone, " it is common knowledge that the Hero alway rescues the damsel from the firey Dragon just before the fair maiden meets her death in it's lair"

Coming off his throne, Everend let loose a stream of obsenities, bringing a deep blush to several of his counselours and even to one or two of the court concubines. Ereasa tried to calm him in hushed tones, but he only shot her a glare that was almost accusing. Many times he had speculated whether or not Marcius was his child. It just didn't seem possible that one of such meager mind could have sprung from his loins. Of course, he had never made the accusation in light of the fact that there was no one in the kingdom he knew of that had an intellect that even approached his sons. No, the boy was his curse, surely punnishment for some gross negligence in his rule. He thought for a moment, a shrewd light coming to his eyes as he laid hold on what he felt would be the hole in Marcius' reasoning that would show him the err of his judgement.

"Where, exactly, is this dragon you seek?" He proclaimed his a smile of pure joy, thinking his son trapped.

Marcius merely shrugged noncommitedly. "The wizard will know"

Everend choked on his next words,his face going pale as death as he fought the urge to reach out and strangle his only son. Instead,collapsing back into his throne, he tried to think of something, anything to snap the boy out of it, but found no words in the face of such pure and unadultered nonsense.

"My Father, you look ill. It is good I have come to this decision now in light of this most unfortunate turn of events.I pray you now, get some rest before you fall into the sickness fully. I shall return to bid you goodbye before I leave in the morning."

Watching his son turn on his heel and exit the throne room, Everend wondered why he had been chosen for this burden. He searched his mind for some reason for this episode. marcius was unstable, but to construct such an elaborate design required some kind of inspiration. There was no way he could have put all this together on his.....

His eyes narrowed as he considered. yes, there was the answer. Surely Marcius had been influenced here, and he believed he now knew the source. And to think, he had hired the man of his own accord to keep his son out of mishief and entertained.

leaning forward, he growled to his guard. "Bring me that damn bard"

[Bloodstalker]

Riak Sierband lounged lazily on the cushioned sofa in his quarters, leg draped casually across one arm as his head leaned back to rest upon the mountain of pillows. His eyes half closed in a state of relaxation as he felt the cool breeze wash over him from the fans working just above and behind his head. Opening his mouth, he enjoyed the taste of another grape being lowered into his lips by one of the palace Servants. This was his idea of living. Opening his eyes, he winked mischieveously at the rather buxon honey haired womanholding the tray, drwaing a shy smile in return. His voice lifted in song, a rather saucy melody about a randy young butcher's daughter frolicing in the fields of Algeren with the centaurs native to that land. Grinning widely at the giggles from over his shoulders from the fan bearers, he weighed the possibliity in his mind of pulling the young lady in front of him down for a kiss. Sighing contentedly, he decided the effort at this time would break his calm mood, so instead settled for bringing her hand forward and kissing it softly, enjoying the inevitable blush that always accompanied such an act.



Yes, this was indeed a much better life than the road. All that trail dust was not good for ones voice. Besides, he had never before found such a rooted audience for his wild tales of adventure and intrigue as he had in the kings son Marcius. The young man was absolutly spellbound with his songs and stories, hanging on every word and detail, hungering for more and more. Riak found it very flattering to his inflated ego. Always in the taverns he had been forced to contend with the noise of the crowd for his audience, a fact that made him feel vastly under appreciated. He had been skeptical at first when approached for this position, fearing the ungodly tedium of dealing with a noble on a day to day basis. They tended to be so very stuffy, but not Marcius. There was a wonderment in his eyes that fed the bards muse. He had understood immediatly the reason for his employment, as the palace had been filled with stories of Marcius always getting into some trouble here and there. Always with the best of intentions it was understood, but really, a prince who was constantly trying to free the oppressed and serve justice to the infidel was more a nuisance in light of the fact that there really were no oppressed to be freed.

Riak had immediatly seized on that spirit in Marcius by spinning grand tales of wizards, dragons,epic battles between good and evil or some other such nonsense. It caught the boys attention, and, as it kept him out of trouble and scandal, the king had been very appreciative. At first, it had been the motivation of his own comfort that had kept his tales coming, but more and more Riak found himself liking the eagerness within Marcius. Certainly, the lad was not stacked quite right, but he had a good enough nature, and the one thing Riak valued above all, a never tiring ear.

Yes, Riak was indeed content here. He could wish for no more than he had, save for his companion Treylan Priedon to be as content as he was. But, alas, Treylan had a wild and free spirit. It was to be expected he supposed, for as much they were friends, they were polar opposites in everything else. Riak was a smaller man, toping out at barely 6 inches over five feet, thin, and kept his light brown hair cut short, in consistancy with the neat gaotee he wore on his face. By constrast, Treylan was a towering figure, taller even than Marcius'six foot 5 inch frame,though perhaps somewhat leaner in build, his long raven colored hair flowing wildly about his shaven face, giving the constant impression that he was always on the move. He knew the younger man was growing restless here, but also knew he prefered the honest living the had found to the theiveing existance that Riak had always forced on his shoulders.

The door to his quarters opened and Riak was about to invite Treylan to join him for a day of pleasurable inactivity, knowing all the while the that the young warrior was not likely to accept, when he noticed the look Treylan shot him as the escort of four Palace guard followed him into the room.

"What did you do this time?" The gruff young man demanded, startling Riak for a moment. Habit made him consider his actions since he had taken employment here, and for once, he really had no idea what Treylan could be talking about. He had been on his best behaviour, well, besides a few interludes with that nobles wife, but still, she wasn't likely to have said anything

"It has to be something for the king to have us summoned to the court" Treylan spoke into the bards blank expression. The mention of the king calmed Riak somewhat though.

"No doubt another audience to commend my work with the young Marcius" he replied confidently.

"Escorted by a contigent of guards?" Treylan shot back increduously.

"Well, there is that, isn't there?", Riak returned, his confidence shaken but not yet destroyed. " Still, it has to be nothing of consequence. After all, we have done nothing except what we were paid to do. Merely some govenmental jibbrish, these nobles have peculiar ways my friend" He chuckled as he and Treylan moved through the door, following the escort to the throne room.

[Bloodstalker]

"You want me to do WHAT!?!?!?!" Riak exploded in the face of King Everends not so subtly phrased order, losing all semblance of his prior calm exterior. This was preposterous. All of it, and there was absolutly no way he could see how any fault could be laid at his feet in this matter.

Everend fixed his gaze on the slight bard, not surprised in the least at the expected outburst, allowing Riak to vent himself for a few moments before reiterating his intent.

"I believe I was quite clear on this matter. You put these delusions in Marcius' head, now, you make sure he keeps that head attached."

Treylan stood to the side, watching with a mild amusement his friends discomfort. Riak had been living soft for too long now, it would do him good to spend a few days on the road with the prince instead of growing fat in his luxurious quarters. The simple image of the pampered bard being led off on some fool quest with a half crazy companion brought a grin to his face that didn't diminish in the least when Riak shot him a baleful glare before addressing the king again.

"Sire, I realise that the prince has put you in an awkward situation, but , really, I fail to see how you can lay that at my door. I was merely doing the job you pay me to do. Remember, you hired me to keep Marcius entertained and out of trouble, and by all accounts I have done a fine job to this point"

"Fine job?" Everend roared, cutting off Riak just as the bard was building steam. "How can you say you have kept my son pacified, when he waltzes in here like a fresh peac0ck and announces to all in attendance that he is off to slay dragons, rescue damsels, and consort with wizards...Hell, I don't think there even ARE any dragons left in the kingdom, but if there are my misguided glorified tavern singer, you're going to be there to make sure Carylons hier isn't eaten or roasted outright. Maybe next time, if there IS a next time, you'll think twice before spinning such wild tales"

Treylan snickered, obviously enjoying this entire little scene.

Riak sputtered for a moment, face flush with indignation." Surely you can't blame me for his decision. Is it MY fault that Marcius is so damn....," he stopped for a moment, remembering that this was indeed the kings son he was talking about.

Everend leaned forward on his throne, raising a questioning eyebrow."So damn what?"

Treylan wiped a tear from his eye, trying in vain to contain his chuckling.

"I merely meant that it's not my fault that the prince is so impressionable" Riak finally stammered, thinking he had covered himself quite nicely.

"Impressionable my royal ass," Everend snorted. " The boy's a damn friutcake. Don't pretty it up, I know it, and you damn well need to know it if you're going to keep him in one peice"

Treylan almost fell over it a fit of laughter, yes, Riak had got himself into it but good this time.

"Ok, so, he's nuts. If that's the case, what do you expect me to be able to do about it? I am a simple bard, and not very good at keeping him in check by you're own admission How can you expect me to keep a leash on a lunatic who's word carries the weight of royal edict? I can't watch him every hour of the day." Riak countered, emboldened by the vision of his lush, lazy existance sprouting wings and flying out the window.

"I don't expect you do be able to handle such a thing by yourself" the king waved his hand dismissivly. "That's why Treylan is going with you"

"Now just one minute," a suddenly alarmed Treylan interjected, all mirth forgotten the moment his name had been mentioned.

"ENOUGH!" Everned raged. "I think you are getting the impression you have a choice in this. You don't, unless you think of languishing in the dungeoun or losing your head as suitable options." He waited for a long moment, letting his gaze linger on each of the men in turn before continuing. "I didn't think so. My son leaves in the morning. I suggest you you get a good nights rest, and return here tommorrow in time to acompany him"

Riak grasped for any straw he could lay hold on, any way out of this mess. He found himself suddenly wishing he had listened to his first instinct that had warned him not to take this job in the first place. Nobles were such an unreasonable lot.

"What if Marcius doesn't want our company?" was finally all he could come up with.

Everends eyes narrowed dangerously. "Then, my faithful and loyal bard, you had better be thinking of a way to convince him."

Treylan and Riak left the court, bickering back and forth.

"I TOLD you not to be so damn grand with your tales"

"Grand? I'll have you know, I am merely a vessel for the muse. My tales are the culmination of endless hours of devotion to my trade"

"Muse my ass, look where your muse has gotten us now"

Riak snorted, suddenly defensive "I have the integrity of my trade to think about, a certain pride in my work that the likes of you will never understand. Besides, didn't you say just yesterday you wanted to be out and about the world again?"

Treylan cursed vehemently."Not saddled with a delusional prince he thinks he is the knight in some over blown bards tale."

Riak threw his hands up in disgust as the court door closed behind them, leaving Everend and Ereasa alone.

"Are you sure we can't just have the boy commited? " Everend asked in a resigned voice.

"He's young, maybe this will actually do him some good. Maybe he just needs to grow up" Ereasa commented, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than her husband.

Everend stubbornly stuck to his belief that he had somehow caused every God in the pantheon to hate him.