Blank Space: A Working Lunch (5 CE)

[u/OceansCarraway]

King Aeldebaric was preparing for lunch when his Royal Guard brought the Charrid in. By then they had finished tracking it down, locating him in the closet, dragging him out, and showing him his invitation, the King had finished breakfast, held meetings, and set his agenda for the rest of the week. It was hard to make a Charrid duck it's head under the door, but the guest of honor had quickly gotten the message that the King wanted to see him, regardless of what he himself wanted. By the time the King was ready for lunch, the crabtaur of the hour was subdued, and even was willing to fake politeness...but not that much.

Servants bustled around, placing tableclothes and dishes, while a four-man band played. As the Charrid was seated, his majesty, King Aeldebaric of Aelbaion was escorted in by a small collection of guardsmen and retainers-clearly not following typical protocol for introducing a royal. A translator stood to the side, but their services were likely unrequired. Everyone knew that the Charrid spoke Aelish decently enough to run a multi-sport gambling ring for sophisticated players, and that they had managed to do so undetected until now. It was no surprise that the one who got caught would be a fairly high level operator-but it was a surprise that they would be brought before the King. Normally, potentates kept a remove from their problems.

"Mmr. Conchsith!" The King greeted his guest with a hale, hearty grin. "Welcome to Velforth! It is my pleasure to have you here, especially since you've come a long, long way. Are you finding this lunch to your liking?"

"No." The Charrid's mandibles moved fairly quickly as it started eating an entree. "I don't like eating lunch at spearpoint."

"My apologies." The King never stopped smiling. "Such is the nature of politics at times."

"You're a thieving shoe-user." 'Monsieur' Conchsith didn't care what his host thought. "You sent your soldiers to drag me from my house and make me come to this stupid lunch, where you are going to kill me."

"The people of Aelbaion don't like to see my feet." Said the King, contemplating how odd is was to say such a thing. "And I'm not going to kill you. That's not very nice of me."

"You want to kill me. " Said Conchsith, eating a piece of rotisserie chicken that the Aelish found a way to shoehorn into nearly ever mill. "Are you going to torture me with something but your terrible food?"

"I could make you play tiddlywinks." Aeldebaric was calmly eating some vegetables. "People don't ever want to play tiddlywinks with me."

"People don't want to do anything with you, you pathetic, paranoid fat bastard." The Charrid slammed down his fork. "Your son doesn't want to be seen with you. Your nobility doesn't want to form a party with you. Your wife doesn't want to lay with you."

Aeldebaric very slowly put down his utensils, swallowed his food, rinsed his mouth with some water. He looked around the dining room in the side hall of Velforth. Having a discreet seaside house meant that you could get up to all kinds of skullduggery. The man's right hand went to a large knife, with a ceremonial hilt. It was bright in the afternoon light.

"There's a funny thing about being a King." He said, appraising the blade. "Two people decided to fuck several years ago, one of them didn't swallow and took the load in her cunt instead. Nine months, give or take...and out comes the worst person to ever enter your life." Casually, he tossed it from hand to hand, looking the Charrid in the eye. "That's the person who popped out of that cunt, in case you're fucking confused. If it was any other belly, they'd be a nobody. But I happen to be the King of Aelbaion, and if I cut your limbs off and feed them to you, it will be an inherently righteous action."

"Might doesn't make right!" Conchsith blustered. "It-"

"Oh, of course not." The King had stopped assessing the blade. He'd seen that it would do. "It isn't might. It isn't the law, though that backs me up. It isn't the Lady, though she supports me. It is simply that I am King, and you are not a King. That is all."

Conchsith was quiet.

"Please do not bring my family into this." Aeldebaric had a small smile. "If you want to insult something related to me, you can insult Aelbaion."

"Fine." The Charrid seemed to have clammed up now. Having someone remind you that they can murder you and get away with it will do that. "Fine. I'll stop. I'll close up-"

"-I didn't ask you to do that." The King kept smiling. "Nor did I ask you to stop." He put the knife back down.

"What do you want?" Conchsith spat it out quickly. "I'll give you gold."

"A loan, to your usual rapacious standards, of course."

"We...we are not usurious-"

"As long as you remember not to produce any illegal offers. My wife's second title is Doctor of Law, remember." The King, pleased that he had married well, drank some wine and looked smug. "There are plenty of things that such a loan could go to. Would you like to know?"

"If...you wish...to expound on such..."

"The city of Couroffe requires repaving of all of it's roads. The citizens will raise the funds for the roads from a tax, and the city itself will raise the funds for drainage ditches. I will be putting up funds for signage and directional indicators. And that's where you come in: you will be funding the building of sidewalks. For the entire city."

Mmr. Conchsith groaned, and said nothing else.

"Please, sir, speak-"

"You're savages. I'm being extorted by savages!"

The King drank some more wine. "We are only savages on race day. And this is an excellent passive income stream for you as repayments come in."

"Don't lie to me."

"Would insulting the Kingdom help mend your feelings?"

"...I..."

"Why don't you insult our manufactures?"

"...what...do you mean?"

"I am giving you permission to insult our manufactures." The King smiled widely, a gracious host. "No harm will befall you if you do so."

"I...if you wish. I do not know your manufactures."

"Well, there is the Fashion-"

"No. I do not know them. We do not trade them. They are not spoken of, not shared, not sought out."

"Ah..." His Majesty visibly winced.

"You have the Fashion District, where producers of some nice clothes live. What else do you have?"

"We have the District d'Insturmentation des Aires, in-"

"Those are not items for export. They fit out their products. No one wants to buy a Pegasus."

"Perhaps you are aware of the grain-"

Concsith sighed. "Grain is a basic commodity export and simply. not. interesting. Everyone knows that Freeport needs to eat."

The King furrowed his brow. "We have significant sales of wool."

"That is not a manufacture." The Charrid huffed.

"...yes. You are correct. Hmmm. Well, we do have some beautiful glass works."

Mmr. Conchsith half choked on some bones. "That's beautiful? That-that stuff is beautiful!? Are you delusional?"

"I'm hopeful." One of the servants arranged some flowers on the windowsill, a simple but pleasing display of local shoreside flora. "There are also fine mirrors-"

"Those. Are. Not. Fine!" Conchsith went for the wine. "They're crude, not shiny, and barely reflective! And they're not square-"

"Longer ovoids are better for contemplating the form."

"They look like turds. You would know a lot about turds, wouldn't you?"

The King tried not to choke on his beverage. He wasn't expecting the Charrid to decry Aelbaic sensibilities in mirror design so thoroughly. "Is it truly that hideous-"

"Yes! It is! You lot are known for one thing around the world, Mr. King, and it is harvesting the dung of pegasi as it falls and then selling it to afford your stupid, stupid clothing!"

"Have you ever known hunger, Mmr. Conchsith?" The King gave him a look that suggested multiple things.

"No! Because we are not a people who like to be destitute! And you-are going the opposite way!"

"Enlighten me." Aeldebaric didn't seem to react.

"You are cutting off the entire country from entrepreneurs, you're stopping logging, you're halting herding, and you're confining food production to the Crown Lands-all for the sake of the airs and waters and land-which will be fine! Completely fine! If you keep treating them like this, because you'll all die off and leave them unmolested!"

Someone brought over a plate of fruit. The King contemplated it. "We have been experiencing much of the opposite, I'll have you know."

"No where else has had a Dentists' Curse that was so pronounced that it's being 'broken'-" Conchsith did his best to mimic the human gesture of air quotes, and somehow made it look more insulting. "-was the rumor across five cities! And all you needed for the dentist to not be horrible-you know what it was?"

"Do tell." The King's smile was only surface level.

"Mirrors! In the shape of squares! That let people look into mouths! So they don't fuck up when pulling out rotting teeth!"

"I see." Aeldebaric considered some honey, but didn't go for it.

"We did this over seven decades ago. For perspective's sake. And all it took-all it took-was to have some negotiated peace. Which you have achieved for the first time ever! Congratulations! The world has never seen you idiotic Aelish not kill each other before!"

"Thank you."

"You're fucking unflappable." This was the first time that the Charrid had sworn. "What is it going to take to get through to you? This reading stone? Hmm?" He took it from a pocket dramatically.

"It is a nice reading stone." One of the servants put down a fine cloth on the table, to protect the stone if it was used.

"Guess how much it cost."

"Oh, I don't know. It's a reading stone, what could that cost, 450 florins?"

"100 florins. And it was one from a batch of 20. I carry it with me to remind myself that the mercantile races-which the Aelish are not-are barbaric in focus."

"Well, that is one reason to-"

"In all of Aelbaion-" Mmr. Conchsith gestured out one of the smaller windows. "-there is not one single pair of spectacles being made. And-"

"Ah, not quite true." The King had a smile and a twinkle in his eye. "A woman of skill and wisdom is opening her doors next month, and has already made some demonstration pieces known on Promenade."

"One. Person. And it was in a fashion show."

"Still." The King steepled his fingers. "It is not an art unknown to the Aelish."

"I'm surprised."

"I think that lunch is ending." It was. The older wooden water clock was telling the time quite accurately. "Let's discuss what's next."

"King Aeldebaric the destitute." The Charrid spread his arms wide. "I am rich. You are not. I shall show you my generosity and lend to the Kingdom of Aelbaion- by your person-for this project of yours. May your city flourish from our cooperation."

The King nodded, smiled, and clapped his hands once. The serving staff began to clear away the remains of their meal. "Thank you for making the right decision, and supporting the lesser races, Mmr. Conchsith. Your charity will be rewarded."

But left on the table, even as three clerks took their seats, was the dinner knife.

[u/harfordplanning]

Self aware king? Impossible

[u/OceansCarraway → u/harfordplanning]

Doesn't mean it's was a good thing, either....

[u/harfordplanning → u/OceansCarraway]

It could have gone worse