Kal walked towards the throne, and sat down. Usually, he wouldn't sit down in the Big Chair, as he liked to call it. He stood at his father's left hand, opposite of his mother, while court was in session. In their absence, however, Kallain would be, as the Heir Apparent and Prince of the Realm, acting [s]tyrant[/s] king, for the moment. Actually, wouldn't he technically be the Regent, if he did this? [i]Anyways,[/i] he thought, [i]Back to the problem at hand.[/i] Waving for Tamlyn (Son of George,) to speak, Kal rested his elbows on the armrests (which were actually quite ergonomic, in retrospect,) and steepled his fingers, noting it as Serell stood at his right, preparing to record the Court audience.

Tamlyn, (Son of George), wrung his hat in his big hands, and while he did seem the hardworking laborer type, Tamlyn (son of George), seemed quite nervous, as if the Crown Prince might execute him on the spot. Well, to be fair, most of the citizens had only seen him from afar, (although he had a few friends among the nobility,) so they, for the most part, had yet to form their own opinions of him. Stepping forward, Tamlyn (son of George) bowed, stood back up, and spoke. 

[color=Khaki]"Turnips."[/color] The farmer blurted out the word, as if that explained the entire situation. 

Kallain, confused, (and rightly so), said, [color=Orange]"Turnips?" [/color]

The farmer, uncomfortable with the subject, fidgeted. [color=Khaki]"Aye, m'lard, thar be hostile turnips attackin' yer vassals, on the outskirts of the village. We're afraid t' even leave! I barhley escaped the place m'self, and even then, dat were a close shave. Please, you need ta help us!"[/color]

Kal frowned, and said, [color=Orange]"..... What?"[/color]