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Posted on June 4, 2013 at 07:23:44 PM by a r t h u r
 Pen? Arthur thought as his son vanished from the room at a touch of Mallos’ hand. “What now?” the bird snapped. It had started to rain, and the tree was not well enough endowed with leaves to offer him much shelter. The king ignored his familiar’s tone and pressed on firmly, finding that he had little patience remaining with which to handle his bad tempered merlin. If Tristan finds his way to Thoth, please inform me at once.” The bird huffed and muttered something about Arthur learning to control his son, but the king ignored him pointedly and returned to the job at hand. He watched Mallos’ hand move back and forth across the paper as he listened to the Spaniard speak. His elbows were rested on the edge of the desk and he supported his head in his hands. There was no need for formality around Mallos. He tried to think about what steps he could take in order to protect Thoth. He had plenty of ideas, they slipped teasingly into his mind, promising resolution. It did not take long to rip each one apart, against powerful magic, especially of the kind of non-combative assaults of which the Spaniard had spoken, there was very little Arthur could do himself. There were secondary measures, fail safes and precautions, little steps that would probably prove to be redundant but that he would rather put in place whilst he had the opportunity rather than wishing he had done them when it was too late. Arthur had a lot of regrets already, there was no need to lay the foundations for more. ’None of which you’ll like.’ That did not bode well. Arthur raised his eyebrows as he adopted a sideways smile. A small gesture, but as with most of his facial expressions, the King filtered numerous communications into it. Its primary function was to say ‘try me’ but there was a wry kind of amusement there too and a willingness to listen. This was more Mallos’ expertise than it was Arthur’s, and the King was more than prepared to listen to his advice with as open a mind as he could muster. Arthur listened to the Spaniard’s suggestions with a neutral expression, but his mind was pierced by one overwhelming certainty. If there was anyone who was going to like the proposed ideas less than him, then it was Thoth. The king new from experience that getting Thoth to do something he didn’t want to do, especially when he was angry or upset, both of which were very likely possibilities when the problem was put to him, was not too shy of impossible. It would have been easier if it had been Tristan. Arthur knew how to deal with his own son, he was less sure about Aura’s. “It seems to me,” the king responded after a pause, “that Thoth will be faced with a choice between liberty to explore Shaman as he wishes, and letting you alter his mind. I honestly cannot see him accepting either. I cannot, will not, overrule his decision on the latter, which would leave me with the option of restricting his movement against his will.” Arthur’s expression became more serious and he fixed Mallos with a piercing look, “I did that once before, in the most literal of ways. I swore to myself that I would not do it again. I cannot help him if he hates me. He has to trust me, and I do not think he finds trust easy. I am sure we both know how that feels.” How to proceed? Arthur’s brow became creased in thought and he looked passed Mallos to the wall beyond, unseeing, as he ran a series of possible scenarios through his mind. Finally, he spoke again, “I do not think there is anything more we can do or decide until I have spoken to Thoth. I will put your suggestions to him and see what he has to say on the matter. He may yet surprise us.” Arthur accepted the sketch from his father-in-law between his finger and thumb, and turned the portrait to face him in order to study it himself for a while. It was fortunate, he supposed, that he had always had a good head for remembering faces. It was a useful attribute in a monarch. He was just about to place it down upon the desktop when Mallos spoke again, and Arthur glanced up at him curiously. His instinctual reaction was to leap to the conclusion that they would dare to target his son. If anyone affiliated with the Auran church lay a finger on Tristan, then he would make sure that all ten of their fingers found a new home in a box. Shaman, it seemed, had not yet filtered the dark ages out of him entirely. It was something of a surprise even to him, but he also knew that, with the oath made, it was a promise he would keep. “If they come near my family,” he warned his eyes turning hard and cold, “if they so much as approach them, then they will find my patience very thin indeed. I wonder, until I have spoken with Thoth, can you erect the barrier to prevent the... undesirables from entering the castle? I will sleep easier that way.”  |
Replies:
- él se fue con el invierno. - By mallos June 6, 2013 at 00:05:24 AM
- chased your ghost across the yard - By a r t h u r June 6, 2013 at 05:29:30 PM
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