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Message: <blockquote data-quote="(contact)" data-source="post: 2189939" data-attributes="member: 41">Interlude: Things that must be, most often are.Prince Thrommel admires himself in the full length mirror, turning himself to and fro in a clumsy imitation of Heydricus’ practiced narcissism before the tailor’s glass.  The velvet green cloak that marks a High Knight of Furyondy sits squarely and well upon his broad shoulders.  His wife might have admired it, had she been there, but the King’s daughter has become a fixture at court of late (although whether this is to aid her father or simply keep an eye on him is a matter of some debate).“I want the golden trim, I should think,” Thrommel says to his valet, who stumbles forward, laden with agreeable murmurs.  Quite right, sir, quite right you are, and the hem should trail behind, he agrees, because it does mark the prince as a man of the greatest station.Thrommel sighs once, and adjusts the clasp, positioning it so that the stag on his house crest is revealed beneath the velvet cloak.  He is like the stag, he reflects; noble and proud.  A conquering beast.  When his father returns from the New Crusade, perhaps Belvor will pin the High Knight’s badge upon his chest, or perhaps even Heydricus will do it.  He could get Jespo to teleport Heyrdricus to the ceremony.  If he ordered it, Jespo would have to, he is the crown prince.  Besides, it wouldn’t take too much time away from Liberating and Venganceing, he reckons.  Just a couple of hours in the palace gardens.  He pulls his cloak closer around his shoulders and checks his teeth for any signs of his lunch.  Finding none, Thrommel leaves the room, cloak in tow, and moves toward the balcony.  He trips once briefly on the cloak’s hem and curses the thing, before recalling what an honor it will be to have it pinned on him officially.  He pauses at the top of the stairs, looking down the long, curving expanse into the bustle of activity in the great hall.  There are war preparations in the air, and it titillates and arouses him.  He will be a general this time, a true general, not a paltry field officer like in Tenh.  Here in Furyondy he is in his father’s kingdom, and he will build the war against Iuz.He tucks his hands within the cloak, clasped behind his back (as was his father’s habit), and dreams of how glorious it will be to receive a hero’s parade.  He laughs contentedly as he imagines the begrudging but sincere look of respect on the face of his father-in-law when he returns from a long, hard-fought (but stunningly victorious) Northern campaign.  He starts down the stairs.He trips again on the hem of the cloak and pitches forward, his hands tangling within his sword belt behind his back.  He strikes the fourth marble step down with his temple, and pitches forward loosely, tumbling halfway down the long staircase before sliding to a thick, meaty stop.Dead.</blockquote>

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