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Posted on February 28, 2014 at 07:08:48 PM by arthur
 “Oh come on!” Tristan said, waving his hand in Alistair’s direction before turning back to look at Arthur, “there isn’t a person in this castle who doesn’t carry a knife or a dagger! Are we all closet assassins now?” Looking back at the guard, Tristan drew his own dagger from the sheath at his hip, “are you saying I’m a potential murderer too? And the King?” The last part had the desired effect, causing the captain to mutter and shuffle his feet awkwardly, much to Tristan’s delight. Arthur however, caught his son’s attention with a stern eye, “that’s enough, Tristan,” he said firmly, indicating that the boy should put his blade away, “there is no need to be quite so dramatic.” The king returned his attention to Alistair, fixing him with a penetrating stare as he considered the young man before him. He listened to what the boy had to say about what had happened before raising a hand for silence. The king did not notice the magpie enter the hall, but his familiar did. Pendragon, who had been perched in his usual place on the back of his faerie’s chair, took flight in order to perch on one of the nearest flag poles holding the heraldic banners which were suspended from the uppermost sections of the walls. He intended to keep a close watch on the scavenger. There was no trusting a magpie, everyone knew that. “I think, Alistair,” Arthur began, “that we might try for a little bit more contrition. I am sure the Captain would appreciate an apology from you for assaulting him. He was doing his job, and he is acting on my behalf. I would not expect anyone with good intentions to run from royal officials. I am not an unreasonable man, and we could have had this same conversation with far fewer hot tempers.” He waited, his grey eyes telling the boy that he would not take any arguments, for the apology to be given and for some indication that Alistair had understood what he had been told. Tristan, who had been in trouble with his father enough times to recognise the tone, offered Alistair an encouraging smile. Arthur was right; the prince had never known him to be unfair in his dealings with him, so he was confident that his father would be as just with his friend. He still held his breath a little as the king seemed to come to a decision. “So long as the items have been returned to where they belong,” he began, “we shall say no more about them for the time being. However, I think we need to find you something to occupy your mind Alistair...” Tristan interrupted. “He’s a good rider, Father,” he explained, throwing his friend a grin, “I’ll vouch for that.” Arthur considered his son before nodding, “very well, I will secure you a position in the stables. The stable master can keep an eye on you. I will also talk to Dr. Gupta at the Academy. I will expect you do go and visit him once a week to see if he can help you manage this...condition of yours.” |
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