Ezra Amos (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
coolmonsoon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
zenderael_rl2013-06-30 03:28 pm
coolmonsoon) wrote in zenderael_rl2013-06-30 03:28 pm
Entry tags:
Ezra + Prince Baldwin // Royal Introductions
Who: Ezra and Prince Baldwin
When: Wednesday, 24/8
Where: Ezra's office, Paladin HQ
Before/After: n/a
Warnings: n/a
During the war with Aerveas, Prince Baldwin, the heir apparent, had fled Bastan. He had been gone from the city when most of it fell into the Earth. A few paladins managed to secret him away to a fortress on the coast and lay low. Anonymity and silence kept Aerveas's armies from discovering him at first; the combined might of Safta, the berserkers, the hunters, and the remaining paladins protected him at the end. He still did not return immediately, until they were certain the plague was done.
Baldwin had been a rare appearance before. The boy mostly trained in the countryside, as his aunt Omid found him annoying, but with no child of her own, her late younger sister's son was the heir to the throne.
In a sense, then, he was a newcomer to the new Bastan, too.
After he returned, letters announcing his presence went out to the Spenta, the Vahishta, Queen Omid, and Bishop Doukas. He already met with his aunt and the bishop briefly. He had yet to meet with the new Vahishta; the Spenta, however, was the one that he really wanted to meet. The ten year-old boy stood outside the Spenta's office, waiting to be received. He should have been sitting, but he was too anxious.
He kept bouncing, practically, while he waited. It looked out of place; his dark blue doublet, with silver and gold-lining, was freshly tailored and he had crocobear hide riding boots for his lessons. He should have looked regal, but it did not matter.
This was because the Spenta was the COOLEST PERSON ALIVE ON ALL OF ZENDEARTH, thank you very much! And he was going to meet him!
Totally unaware of his little fanboy, Ezra spent his time getting ready wondering what the hell he was supposed to be doing. Just... introducing himself? He thought back to what little information he had gleaned from Cuthbert and wondered what the longsuffering sigh had been for.
Well, he was, what, ten? Eight? Something like that. A kid. Well, and a prince. Was he anything like Omid? That gave him pause while he adjusted his collar, also decked out in the colours of Bastan, a navy-like blue with accents of silver. Very little had been replaced on the whole for the paladins, but his own uniform had been deemed a necessity. An eight year old like Omid... could he handle that? He had enough trouble with Omid herself.
Again he was uncertain of the relations between guilds and royalty, though it seemed they were on equal standing. Or maybe he was more than- granted he lived his life out, he'd survive Baldwin anyway. Well, falling back on respectful behaviour couldn't hurt. And it was the prince who came to see him, not the other way around...
"Go get him, would you?" he asked Whitehall. "Then you can consider yourself dismissed for a bit. Back at fifteen-hundred."
"Yessir," the man said with a salute, and headed to the door. His own armour was dinged in places, but in better shape than most others'. He opened the door to the Spenta's office and was greeted by the prince. He hesitated, as though not having expected the boy to not be sitting down. Or at least not standing right outside the door.
"The Spenta welcomes you, Your Highness," he said, not quite able to get his surprise out of his voice, but he stepped aside, let the boy in, and once able shut the door with another salute and headed off, leaving Ezra to the company of the crown prince.
Baldwin, truth be told, knew exactly what to expect and got something better. He imagined a stern, bearded warrior from Earth (so maybe he would have a battleworn iPhone or something). Instead, he saw the (at least, to his eyes) surprisingly young man with an amazing facial scar and an eyepatch. He gawked at it, which was probably not the most sensitive thing he could have done, but he was absolutely in awe.
It took him a few seconds to remember he was staring and another second to close his mouth. "Um, thank you, your worshipfulness." One of his etiquette coaches reinforced the proper etiquette. All of the recipients of Xumurdad's organs were to be called 'your worshipfulness,' he said, even though some disagreed on that. Sir, my lord, your excellency, and others applied to. Really, it was more than Baldwin wanted to keep track of. "It's an honor!"
He bobbed, once, and then looked over his shoulder, before he looked back at Ezra.
All of the excitement bubbled over. "Oh my Xumurdad I'm meeting the Spenta!" he said without breathing. "Is it true you beat up an undead dragon? And you beat up like a million warhounds with your barehands? And you beat Mezzron and then Aerveas and you got the scar because you wanted to let Aerveas think he was winning but he wasn't really so you and the Ahura cut him in half and then when he tried to get back up you cut him in half again? Did you, did you, did you?"
Ezra had to keep from flinching at the words 'your worshipfulness'. He'd correct it in a minute. In the meantime, he had to deal with an excited little boy and he was a little at a loss as to how to deal with it when the little boy was royalty.
At least he was reassured that he wasn't like Omid. What he wasn't sure about was whether or not it was better than being like Omid.
"One at a time, one at a time," he said first as Baldwin threatened to keep going. He found himself grinning a little bit despite himself. He didn't take exuberance as well as he used to but it was so ridiculous he couldn't help it. "Make yourself comfortable, Your Highness. And, uh- please, just refer to me as Spenta." That was most comfortable.
Not to say it was comfortable at all. The idea of having someone so young looking up to him made his insides freeze. "How has your return to the new Bastan been, your Highness?" he asked himself, avoiding answering the boy's for a moment.
"Sorry, sorry!" the boy said, calming down. Baldwin nodded and looked around, before he found one of the chairs and took a seat on it. "Of course, um, Spenta."
He still stumbled over the words, but it was something of a relief. "Your worshipfulness" was a mouthful. Maybe people felt the same way about "your highness," but Baldwin was certain that if he said people could use his name, it would make his aunt cross with him. He sat up straighter and considered the question briefly. "It's been nice," he said. "Before everything got all mixed up and that war started, my aunt didn't like me being in the city for long. I like getting a chance to see everything."
He looked around the office again, before he looked back at Ezra. "And the stuff from Earth is really amazing, Spenta. I've never seen anything like it. The buildings are so tall! And those wheeled constructs in some parts of the city move really fast. But I heard they won't stay around long because of something called gas."
The chairs weren't especially cushy, and the office itself seemed a little bare. It hadn't been very decorated to begin with- Ezra had pared it down quite a bit when he'd taken over, and the rogues had gotten into whatever was left over. Standards still hung on the walls, the same midnight blue and silver embroidery that characterized the paladin's guild and emblazoned with the guild's symbol. The desk, a little beat up, the chairs, a display case with only a warhound skull in it, cabinets, books and folders, a cup of coffee he'd already forgotten about. His shield and warhammer were behind the desk, unseen while Ezra leaned against the front of the desk, folding his arms in front of him and crossing one ankle over the other.
He felt bad for a moment, having heard something along the lines of Omid not liking Baldwin much in general, but that didn't surprise him much. She'd done her duty in sending him away to keep him safe. Now it seemed the ball was in his court. "Gas is the thing vehicles- the wheeled constructs- run on. Like oil in a lantern, but the supply is very limited. I think maybe the Khshathra could come up with something to keep some running, but we wouldn't be able to keep them all running."
Cars as constructs... he had to admit, he'd preferred a quieter, carless Bastan. Having cars that could run indefinitely seemed an annoyance. Having cars running the way they were now was an annoyance. Why had Pelusa not done something about cars?
He scratched at the side of his face, just by the strap of the eyepatch. "I think getting a mount would be better. I think they're a lot better than vehicles. Do you have one yet, highness?"
"That makes a lot of sense," Baldwin said. None of his tutors knew why; it wasn't a great surprise, given that they spent most of their time in the countryside. He looked up at Ezra and shook his head. "No, no mount, Spenta. I wanted a horse to start training, actually! So I could learn to ride into battle and the like, but..."
He hesitated. Could he criticize Omid to the Spenta? He wasn't sure. Maybe Omid got along well with the Spenta (oh, if only he knew). He decided to try to be subtle.
"My aunt says that I shouldn't take a guild or learn to fight." He frowned; it was impossible to hide that he disliked that idea. "She said that it's easier if people underestimate her and think she's the weak one. But I don't want to be a king like her. A queen like her." Baldwin's features screwed up. "Uh, I trust you understand what I mean, Spenta. I kept asking for training and a mount, but she kept telling me no."
Subtle for a ten year-old, maybe.
Oh yeah, the subtlest.
He looked thoughtful for a moment, wondering what to say to that. It made him a little angry, maybe, to think Omid would say that to him. Not that he wanted another Aerveas on his hands, but to encourage weakness in a ruler, particularly if he were to grow up anything like this aunt, spelled disaster. That Omid hadn't already gotten herself killed was a miracle in itself- it wasn't as though she had proven herself to be especially smart when left to her own devices.
But he was hesitant to encourage anything, either, feeling he ought to at least consult Duncan first. "I might," he said, wondering how the hell he was going to navigate this one. "What do you think of the idea of making it 'easier'?" he asked him, curious about that. "Do you think it's a good way to lead a country?"
"Um, well..."
Baldwin wasn't supposed to criticize Omid. She was the Queen. He lacked the sort of thought to realize why being honest with the Spenta was a good idea -- such as the fact he would have to deal with him for his entire life and Omid for a fraction of it -- but he had spent time idolizing paladins and knights. He defaulted to that sort of behavior, which included being honest and forthright when asked. Small wonder that his aunt wanted to keep him away from the city.
"Not really," he admitted. He quieted his voice, though. "A good king is supposed to be an example to his people. That's what all the stories I read said. It feels like sitting back while other people do the hard work for you isn't the right thing to do."
Ezra watched him steadily as he hesitated, wondering what his answer would be. It was hard to say if it was good if he approved or not simply because he wasn't sure what the right path would be to take. But he knew he couldn't allow another leader that was either too passive or too capricious, like Omid.
But he didn't want to turn Baldwin against his aunt, either. They were still family, and she was still queen.
"That's true," he said. "A leader, by definition, is someone who should be showing others how to act. And there are a lot of different ways to lead. Your aunt has her own way," he added, deciding not to get any more into it than that, "and you'll have yours. Remember, I understand what you're going to go through. Do you remember the old Spenta?" He did, barely. Mostly waxy and cold with his guts hanging out everywhere, but that wasn't the point. "He was a lot different from how I am. It's not my place to try and pick up where he left off. The same will be for you with your aunt. You will face different challenges, and your people will have different needs. It's been fine for now, her way of ruling, but things have been changing a lot lately. You'll need to start picking up what needs to change for you, too.
"Guild training is probably too early, I'll give her that much. But your own mount and learning how to ride it is important. You can't always rely on others if something else happens. Do you understand?"
Baldwin nodded. It was easy enough to understand: he couldn't make his aunt do things differently but he could plan to, once he was king. He might have to, too; the old Spenta was different than this new, eyepatch-wearing Spenta. The new one was cooler, though, he thought.
"I understand, Spenta. It won't be the same as it is now, when I become king. A long way away too," he said. It was still a disappointment -- even if he could not think of a single ten year-old guild member. Something to consider, at least. "I need to be able to take care of myself, especially like that. I'll just have to convince her to let me!" He frowned and put his hand up to his mouth. "Or train to ride secretly. That might work better. What my aunt doesn't know doesn't hurt her!"
Ezra laughed. "That's not as true as people like to think, unfortunately," he said, trying to keep the discomfort from his face. He rubbed his hands together instead, looking thoughtful. "We'll talk to her first and see where that lands us. And if she doesn't like it, we'll do it anyway."
Yeah definitely would have to talk to Heim about this.
"But you'll need to focus on a lot of other important things. Do you know the name of the cities Bastan's merged with? They're called Fall City and Underwood. I grew up in Underwood and knew it like the back of my hand. Fall City I knew pretty well too. They aren't anything like Bastan, or any place in Zenderael. You'll have to learn about them. And you'll have to learn how to interact with them. They've never had a king or a queen before, you know. They might not be ready to accept having one now, or ever."
Baldwin shook his head. "I heard of Fall City, but I never got to study them. I didn't have a lot of books or anything out in the castle we hid in."
Not that books would help, but Baldwin barely understood that. He hadn't been given a tablet or anything of the sort, because they thought the chance he would say something on the internet could give his position away to Aerveas's rogues, which would have been the end. "I should go meet them. I'd like to see the things from Earth. I heard stories about it! They didn't have kings there? Do you think they'll not like me?"
"I don't think there was enough known here to have any books written about it yet," he said, amused. "Unless someone managed to dragonmail a few from Earth before they went on strike..."
Hmmm, American history... world history... on top of Zenderean history? Oh, kid, he doesn't envy you at all.
"It's not that they won't like you, it's that they won't know what to do with you, like they weren't sure when your aunt and her castle were taken to Earth. I'm sure it'll all get sorted out sooner rather than later. We're stuck with each other now," he said, looking back to Baldwin from where he'd been staring at the ceiling. "Your role may change from what you expect it to be. And we might be the ones to adapt. You'll need to learn a lot about the world, now. More than you knew before."
He had to learn French. He couldn't be the only one to suffer.
"So we'll talk to your aunt about riding, but we'll make sure your tutors are all up to speed, too."
"Ohhhhh." Baldwin nodded, because that made sense about the books. The rest sounded like it was complicated and hard to wrap his head around.
But he sort of knew what to do!
"I shall have to go out there and meet them!" he said. "That'll do the trick! Or help a lot." Maybe it would not, magically, solve everything. But he was old enough to hope it would and have it feel genuine. But, it was easy to see, they had to start somewhere. "The tutors are a good idea, too. Do you think, um..."
He hesitated. Could he ask too much of the Spenta? It couldn't hurt. "Could I learn more self-defense, too? Just how to use a sword. I don't need to do guild training yet, of course, Spenta..."
Ezra had said that, in fact.
"It'll help, but let's not be too hasty. You're crown prince, but your aunt is still Queen. We still have to abide by her rules. A little bit, anyway."
Oh, so very tempting to be as annoying as possible.
"Self-defense is important," he said slowly. "If people think you're weak, and you are weak, it can get you into a lot of trouble." If Omid didn't know about that part... well, it wouldn't hurt Baldwin, at least. Or it would dramatically improve his chances of not getting hurt.
"It's something I'll have to think about. I need to see that you're dedicated to your studies as well. It's important to understand what's going on in the world and understand how to respond to it. Not every situation calls for a sword."
It was a little disappointing. Baldwin could see the value in it, of course; his aunt had insisted on quite a bit of studying and he had come to have an appreciation of it. But part of him still wanted to get out there and play with a sword and be a hero, like in the stories.
But he could see the Spenta's point.
He nodded at Ezra. "I understand. Studies come first." It left the chance that he could learn to use a sword -- and a real sword, not one of the wooden practice ones, without any instruction -- some day. "I can do that."
Never in a million years did Ezra think he would ever be in a position to decide things like this. Not even just in terms of princely duties, but just general, responsible behaviour. It felt weird, but it wasn't something he could argue with himself about either.
Which made it even more obvious Baldwin's disappointment. "Althoooough... I'm certain it would be much safer for you to have a tutor also in swordplay, than to risk having you go about trying to learn it on your own," he mused aloud, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. "Not that I think you would be the sort to do that, Highness."
Baldwin perked up at that. He looked up at Ezra and nodded his head. "I never would do that!" He already was doing that, but he knew better than to point it out. "You really think so?"
"Mm, of course not."
He was what, eleven? Yeah he'd totally done stuff already.
"Well, let me think on it and see if I've any men to spare." Who of his were good swordsmen? Cuthbert, but could he spare Cuthbert for this? It'd be a good position, but could Cuthbert even handle children? He had no idea. Whitehall? Whitehall was better at support.
"In the meantime, you are most certainly welcome to visit and observe anytime you like, so long as we're aware of it. Have you got a phone yet, Your Highness?"
"Yes, Spenta!" Baldwin said eagerly. He, at least, did not hop up to his feet to nerd out or spaz out about the entire thing at Ezra. That could be counted as a blessing. In a way, it was easy: he was such a neophyte that any trained paladin could likely do the job, at least to begin with. In a way, it was hard: Baldwin was the prince.
"I'll make certain I ask first, Spenta," he added, still eagerly. Then, he nodded. Omid knew her technology, at least. The phone he pulled out -- and without much flourish, as he clearly had no idea -- was the latest and greatest, state of the art technology.
"This is the one!" he said. "It's how I talked on the forums."
Jesus, it was better than his. By, like a million times.
"May I?" he asked, reaching out for it and taking his own phone out of his pocket. "...and you'll want to be careful about posting on the forums, your highness. Or anywhere online. People like to use what you say against you."
"Ohhhh."
Baldwin considered that.
"Like when my aunt found out that Kendrick wrote fanfiction about him and Anais Vallinar falling in love and Kendrick rescued Anais from Rasmus, who he said was a maneater, because Kendrick posted it all over the internet?"
Had he taken a drink of anything, it would have been all over Baldwin's face by now. As it was, he nearly choked on his own air and just barely kept from a coughing fit, covering his mouth and staring at Baldwin as though he'd grown a second head.
"I-I see," he got out. "Like that. Something like that. Please don't ever post something like that on the internet." Had Rasmus seen it? He hoped not. It would break his heart.
...had Anais seen it? No, no, he'd seen Kendrick just the other day (it was hard not to notice him after Lera pointed him out). He was still alive. Anais couldn't have seen it yet.
"Trust me, Spenta!" Baldwin gave him a big, exaggerated thumbs-up and winked at him. "I learned that the first rule of being a good king -- uh, a good anything -- is 'don't be Kendrick!'"
When: Wednesday, 24/8
Where: Ezra's office, Paladin HQ
Before/After: n/a
Warnings: n/a
During the war with Aerveas, Prince Baldwin, the heir apparent, had fled Bastan. He had been gone from the city when most of it fell into the Earth. A few paladins managed to secret him away to a fortress on the coast and lay low. Anonymity and silence kept Aerveas's armies from discovering him at first; the combined might of Safta, the berserkers, the hunters, and the remaining paladins protected him at the end. He still did not return immediately, until they were certain the plague was done.
Baldwin had been a rare appearance before. The boy mostly trained in the countryside, as his aunt Omid found him annoying, but with no child of her own, her late younger sister's son was the heir to the throne.
In a sense, then, he was a newcomer to the new Bastan, too.
After he returned, letters announcing his presence went out to the Spenta, the Vahishta, Queen Omid, and Bishop Doukas. He already met with his aunt and the bishop briefly. He had yet to meet with the new Vahishta; the Spenta, however, was the one that he really wanted to meet. The ten year-old boy stood outside the Spenta's office, waiting to be received. He should have been sitting, but he was too anxious.
He kept bouncing, practically, while he waited. It looked out of place; his dark blue doublet, with silver and gold-lining, was freshly tailored and he had crocobear hide riding boots for his lessons. He should have looked regal, but it did not matter.
This was because the Spenta was the COOLEST PERSON ALIVE ON ALL OF ZENDEARTH, thank you very much! And he was going to meet him!
Totally unaware of his little fanboy, Ezra spent his time getting ready wondering what the hell he was supposed to be doing. Just... introducing himself? He thought back to what little information he had gleaned from Cuthbert and wondered what the longsuffering sigh had been for.
Well, he was, what, ten? Eight? Something like that. A kid. Well, and a prince. Was he anything like Omid? That gave him pause while he adjusted his collar, also decked out in the colours of Bastan, a navy-like blue with accents of silver. Very little had been replaced on the whole for the paladins, but his own uniform had been deemed a necessity. An eight year old like Omid... could he handle that? He had enough trouble with Omid herself.
Again he was uncertain of the relations between guilds and royalty, though it seemed they were on equal standing. Or maybe he was more than- granted he lived his life out, he'd survive Baldwin anyway. Well, falling back on respectful behaviour couldn't hurt. And it was the prince who came to see him, not the other way around...
"Go get him, would you?" he asked Whitehall. "Then you can consider yourself dismissed for a bit. Back at fifteen-hundred."
"Yessir," the man said with a salute, and headed to the door. His own armour was dinged in places, but in better shape than most others'. He opened the door to the Spenta's office and was greeted by the prince. He hesitated, as though not having expected the boy to not be sitting down. Or at least not standing right outside the door.
"The Spenta welcomes you, Your Highness," he said, not quite able to get his surprise out of his voice, but he stepped aside, let the boy in, and once able shut the door with another salute and headed off, leaving Ezra to the company of the crown prince.
Baldwin, truth be told, knew exactly what to expect and got something better. He imagined a stern, bearded warrior from Earth (so maybe he would have a battleworn iPhone or something). Instead, he saw the (at least, to his eyes) surprisingly young man with an amazing facial scar and an eyepatch. He gawked at it, which was probably not the most sensitive thing he could have done, but he was absolutely in awe.
It took him a few seconds to remember he was staring and another second to close his mouth. "Um, thank you, your worshipfulness." One of his etiquette coaches reinforced the proper etiquette. All of the recipients of Xumurdad's organs were to be called 'your worshipfulness,' he said, even though some disagreed on that. Sir, my lord, your excellency, and others applied to. Really, it was more than Baldwin wanted to keep track of. "It's an honor!"
He bobbed, once, and then looked over his shoulder, before he looked back at Ezra.
All of the excitement bubbled over. "Oh my Xumurdad I'm meeting the Spenta!" he said without breathing. "Is it true you beat up an undead dragon? And you beat up like a million warhounds with your barehands? And you beat Mezzron and then Aerveas and you got the scar because you wanted to let Aerveas think he was winning but he wasn't really so you and the Ahura cut him in half and then when he tried to get back up you cut him in half again? Did you, did you, did you?"
Ezra had to keep from flinching at the words 'your worshipfulness'. He'd correct it in a minute. In the meantime, he had to deal with an excited little boy and he was a little at a loss as to how to deal with it when the little boy was royalty.
At least he was reassured that he wasn't like Omid. What he wasn't sure about was whether or not it was better than being like Omid.
"One at a time, one at a time," he said first as Baldwin threatened to keep going. He found himself grinning a little bit despite himself. He didn't take exuberance as well as he used to but it was so ridiculous he couldn't help it. "Make yourself comfortable, Your Highness. And, uh- please, just refer to me as Spenta." That was most comfortable.
Not to say it was comfortable at all. The idea of having someone so young looking up to him made his insides freeze. "How has your return to the new Bastan been, your Highness?" he asked himself, avoiding answering the boy's for a moment.
"Sorry, sorry!" the boy said, calming down. Baldwin nodded and looked around, before he found one of the chairs and took a seat on it. "Of course, um, Spenta."
He still stumbled over the words, but it was something of a relief. "Your worshipfulness" was a mouthful. Maybe people felt the same way about "your highness," but Baldwin was certain that if he said people could use his name, it would make his aunt cross with him. He sat up straighter and considered the question briefly. "It's been nice," he said. "Before everything got all mixed up and that war started, my aunt didn't like me being in the city for long. I like getting a chance to see everything."
He looked around the office again, before he looked back at Ezra. "And the stuff from Earth is really amazing, Spenta. I've never seen anything like it. The buildings are so tall! And those wheeled constructs in some parts of the city move really fast. But I heard they won't stay around long because of something called gas."
The chairs weren't especially cushy, and the office itself seemed a little bare. It hadn't been very decorated to begin with- Ezra had pared it down quite a bit when he'd taken over, and the rogues had gotten into whatever was left over. Standards still hung on the walls, the same midnight blue and silver embroidery that characterized the paladin's guild and emblazoned with the guild's symbol. The desk, a little beat up, the chairs, a display case with only a warhound skull in it, cabinets, books and folders, a cup of coffee he'd already forgotten about. His shield and warhammer were behind the desk, unseen while Ezra leaned against the front of the desk, folding his arms in front of him and crossing one ankle over the other.
He felt bad for a moment, having heard something along the lines of Omid not liking Baldwin much in general, but that didn't surprise him much. She'd done her duty in sending him away to keep him safe. Now it seemed the ball was in his court. "Gas is the thing vehicles- the wheeled constructs- run on. Like oil in a lantern, but the supply is very limited. I think maybe the Khshathra could come up with something to keep some running, but we wouldn't be able to keep them all running."
Cars as constructs... he had to admit, he'd preferred a quieter, carless Bastan. Having cars that could run indefinitely seemed an annoyance. Having cars running the way they were now was an annoyance. Why had Pelusa not done something about cars?
He scratched at the side of his face, just by the strap of the eyepatch. "I think getting a mount would be better. I think they're a lot better than vehicles. Do you have one yet, highness?"
"That makes a lot of sense," Baldwin said. None of his tutors knew why; it wasn't a great surprise, given that they spent most of their time in the countryside. He looked up at Ezra and shook his head. "No, no mount, Spenta. I wanted a horse to start training, actually! So I could learn to ride into battle and the like, but..."
He hesitated. Could he criticize Omid to the Spenta? He wasn't sure. Maybe Omid got along well with the Spenta (oh, if only he knew). He decided to try to be subtle.
"My aunt says that I shouldn't take a guild or learn to fight." He frowned; it was impossible to hide that he disliked that idea. "She said that it's easier if people underestimate her and think she's the weak one. But I don't want to be a king like her. A queen like her." Baldwin's features screwed up. "Uh, I trust you understand what I mean, Spenta. I kept asking for training and a mount, but she kept telling me no."
Subtle for a ten year-old, maybe.
Oh yeah, the subtlest.
He looked thoughtful for a moment, wondering what to say to that. It made him a little angry, maybe, to think Omid would say that to him. Not that he wanted another Aerveas on his hands, but to encourage weakness in a ruler, particularly if he were to grow up anything like this aunt, spelled disaster. That Omid hadn't already gotten herself killed was a miracle in itself- it wasn't as though she had proven herself to be especially smart when left to her own devices.
But he was hesitant to encourage anything, either, feeling he ought to at least consult Duncan first. "I might," he said, wondering how the hell he was going to navigate this one. "What do you think of the idea of making it 'easier'?" he asked him, curious about that. "Do you think it's a good way to lead a country?"
"Um, well..."
Baldwin wasn't supposed to criticize Omid. She was the Queen. He lacked the sort of thought to realize why being honest with the Spenta was a good idea -- such as the fact he would have to deal with him for his entire life and Omid for a fraction of it -- but he had spent time idolizing paladins and knights. He defaulted to that sort of behavior, which included being honest and forthright when asked. Small wonder that his aunt wanted to keep him away from the city.
"Not really," he admitted. He quieted his voice, though. "A good king is supposed to be an example to his people. That's what all the stories I read said. It feels like sitting back while other people do the hard work for you isn't the right thing to do."
Ezra watched him steadily as he hesitated, wondering what his answer would be. It was hard to say if it was good if he approved or not simply because he wasn't sure what the right path would be to take. But he knew he couldn't allow another leader that was either too passive or too capricious, like Omid.
But he didn't want to turn Baldwin against his aunt, either. They were still family, and she was still queen.
"That's true," he said. "A leader, by definition, is someone who should be showing others how to act. And there are a lot of different ways to lead. Your aunt has her own way," he added, deciding not to get any more into it than that, "and you'll have yours. Remember, I understand what you're going to go through. Do you remember the old Spenta?" He did, barely. Mostly waxy and cold with his guts hanging out everywhere, but that wasn't the point. "He was a lot different from how I am. It's not my place to try and pick up where he left off. The same will be for you with your aunt. You will face different challenges, and your people will have different needs. It's been fine for now, her way of ruling, but things have been changing a lot lately. You'll need to start picking up what needs to change for you, too.
"Guild training is probably too early, I'll give her that much. But your own mount and learning how to ride it is important. You can't always rely on others if something else happens. Do you understand?"
Baldwin nodded. It was easy enough to understand: he couldn't make his aunt do things differently but he could plan to, once he was king. He might have to, too; the old Spenta was different than this new, eyepatch-wearing Spenta. The new one was cooler, though, he thought.
"I understand, Spenta. It won't be the same as it is now, when I become king. A long way away too," he said. It was still a disappointment -- even if he could not think of a single ten year-old guild member. Something to consider, at least. "I need to be able to take care of myself, especially like that. I'll just have to convince her to let me!" He frowned and put his hand up to his mouth. "Or train to ride secretly. That might work better. What my aunt doesn't know doesn't hurt her!"
Ezra laughed. "That's not as true as people like to think, unfortunately," he said, trying to keep the discomfort from his face. He rubbed his hands together instead, looking thoughtful. "We'll talk to her first and see where that lands us. And if she doesn't like it, we'll do it anyway."
Yeah definitely would have to talk to Heim about this.
"But you'll need to focus on a lot of other important things. Do you know the name of the cities Bastan's merged with? They're called Fall City and Underwood. I grew up in Underwood and knew it like the back of my hand. Fall City I knew pretty well too. They aren't anything like Bastan, or any place in Zenderael. You'll have to learn about them. And you'll have to learn how to interact with them. They've never had a king or a queen before, you know. They might not be ready to accept having one now, or ever."
Baldwin shook his head. "I heard of Fall City, but I never got to study them. I didn't have a lot of books or anything out in the castle we hid in."
Not that books would help, but Baldwin barely understood that. He hadn't been given a tablet or anything of the sort, because they thought the chance he would say something on the internet could give his position away to Aerveas's rogues, which would have been the end. "I should go meet them. I'd like to see the things from Earth. I heard stories about it! They didn't have kings there? Do you think they'll not like me?"
"I don't think there was enough known here to have any books written about it yet," he said, amused. "Unless someone managed to dragonmail a few from Earth before they went on strike..."
Hmmm, American history... world history... on top of Zenderean history? Oh, kid, he doesn't envy you at all.
"It's not that they won't like you, it's that they won't know what to do with you, like they weren't sure when your aunt and her castle were taken to Earth. I'm sure it'll all get sorted out sooner rather than later. We're stuck with each other now," he said, looking back to Baldwin from where he'd been staring at the ceiling. "Your role may change from what you expect it to be. And we might be the ones to adapt. You'll need to learn a lot about the world, now. More than you knew before."
He had to learn French. He couldn't be the only one to suffer.
"So we'll talk to your aunt about riding, but we'll make sure your tutors are all up to speed, too."
"Ohhhhh." Baldwin nodded, because that made sense about the books. The rest sounded like it was complicated and hard to wrap his head around.
But he sort of knew what to do!
"I shall have to go out there and meet them!" he said. "That'll do the trick! Or help a lot." Maybe it would not, magically, solve everything. But he was old enough to hope it would and have it feel genuine. But, it was easy to see, they had to start somewhere. "The tutors are a good idea, too. Do you think, um..."
He hesitated. Could he ask too much of the Spenta? It couldn't hurt. "Could I learn more self-defense, too? Just how to use a sword. I don't need to do guild training yet, of course, Spenta..."
Ezra had said that, in fact.
"It'll help, but let's not be too hasty. You're crown prince, but your aunt is still Queen. We still have to abide by her rules. A little bit, anyway."
Oh, so very tempting to be as annoying as possible.
"Self-defense is important," he said slowly. "If people think you're weak, and you are weak, it can get you into a lot of trouble." If Omid didn't know about that part... well, it wouldn't hurt Baldwin, at least. Or it would dramatically improve his chances of not getting hurt.
"It's something I'll have to think about. I need to see that you're dedicated to your studies as well. It's important to understand what's going on in the world and understand how to respond to it. Not every situation calls for a sword."
It was a little disappointing. Baldwin could see the value in it, of course; his aunt had insisted on quite a bit of studying and he had come to have an appreciation of it. But part of him still wanted to get out there and play with a sword and be a hero, like in the stories.
But he could see the Spenta's point.
He nodded at Ezra. "I understand. Studies come first." It left the chance that he could learn to use a sword -- and a real sword, not one of the wooden practice ones, without any instruction -- some day. "I can do that."
Never in a million years did Ezra think he would ever be in a position to decide things like this. Not even just in terms of princely duties, but just general, responsible behaviour. It felt weird, but it wasn't something he could argue with himself about either.
Which made it even more obvious Baldwin's disappointment. "Althoooough... I'm certain it would be much safer for you to have a tutor also in swordplay, than to risk having you go about trying to learn it on your own," he mused aloud, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. "Not that I think you would be the sort to do that, Highness."
Baldwin perked up at that. He looked up at Ezra and nodded his head. "I never would do that!" He already was doing that, but he knew better than to point it out. "You really think so?"
"Mm, of course not."
He was what, eleven? Yeah he'd totally done stuff already.
"Well, let me think on it and see if I've any men to spare." Who of his were good swordsmen? Cuthbert, but could he spare Cuthbert for this? It'd be a good position, but could Cuthbert even handle children? He had no idea. Whitehall? Whitehall was better at support.
"In the meantime, you are most certainly welcome to visit and observe anytime you like, so long as we're aware of it. Have you got a phone yet, Your Highness?"
"Yes, Spenta!" Baldwin said eagerly. He, at least, did not hop up to his feet to nerd out or spaz out about the entire thing at Ezra. That could be counted as a blessing. In a way, it was easy: he was such a neophyte that any trained paladin could likely do the job, at least to begin with. In a way, it was hard: Baldwin was the prince.
"I'll make certain I ask first, Spenta," he added, still eagerly. Then, he nodded. Omid knew her technology, at least. The phone he pulled out -- and without much flourish, as he clearly had no idea -- was the latest and greatest, state of the art technology.
"This is the one!" he said. "It's how I talked on the forums."
Jesus, it was better than his. By, like a million times.
"May I?" he asked, reaching out for it and taking his own phone out of his pocket. "...and you'll want to be careful about posting on the forums, your highness. Or anywhere online. People like to use what you say against you."
"Ohhhh."
Baldwin considered that.
"Like when my aunt found out that Kendrick wrote fanfiction about him and Anais Vallinar falling in love and Kendrick rescued Anais from Rasmus, who he said was a maneater, because Kendrick posted it all over the internet?"
Had he taken a drink of anything, it would have been all over Baldwin's face by now. As it was, he nearly choked on his own air and just barely kept from a coughing fit, covering his mouth and staring at Baldwin as though he'd grown a second head.
"I-I see," he got out. "Like that. Something like that. Please don't ever post something like that on the internet." Had Rasmus seen it? He hoped not. It would break his heart.
...had Anais seen it? No, no, he'd seen Kendrick just the other day (it was hard not to notice him after Lera pointed him out). He was still alive. Anais couldn't have seen it yet.
"Trust me, Spenta!" Baldwin gave him a big, exaggerated thumbs-up and winked at him. "I learned that the first rule of being a good king -- uh, a good anything -- is 'don't be Kendrick!'"