Attire: A toga (over a tunic) and sandals Date and Time: Sola 24th, Morning Location: The church -> The Royal Curd Mention(s): Interaction(s): @princess Beau, Anastasia, @Lava Alckon Farim |
Next to his side, a young excitable voice declared, âI want to be just like King Edin one day!â
For the first time, Wulfric truly looked at the child. There was such powerful admiration in Beauâs gaze. How old was the boy, seven, eight? Wulfric recalled when he was that age. He had still looked up to his father then. The first inklings of doubts had perhaps started creeping in, but he had only gradually become aware of them throughout the years, and it wasnât untilâ
It wasnât until his father showed his true colours that Wulfric was disabused of all notions of his greatness.
In this one respect â looking up to Edin as a boy â Beau was like him.
How dreadful would it be if the child never learned the truth?
Wulfric lay a palm on the boyâs shoulder, and the youth almost startled, then turned around with a gasp. âPrince Wulfric?â he whispered as if he couldnât believe that the crown prince had touched him. The child looked up at him wide-eyed, but as the royal offered him a small smile, Beau was quick to grin up at him. He became very jittery, raising onto the balls of his feet as if he wished to hop up and down but was restraining himself. The boy looked as if he might burst from the uncontainable amazement at a dream come true.
Wulfric leaned down to be closer to eye-level with Beau. He beckoned the child closer, then whispered into his ear, âYou can be better.â With how loud the applause was, even the child barely heard him.
âW-what? Really?â he exclaimed, utterly thrilled, eyes sparkling with wonder.
Wulfric nodded even as he distanced himself, mirth subtly playing across his expression. The boy was about to exclaim something, but the prince placed a finger in front of his lips, hushing the boy even as he indicated that his words were a secret. Beau clapped both hands in front of his mouth, and bobbed his head rapidly. His expression shone with an indescribable happiness as he gazed up, and he did jump this time. A laugh burst out from the boy, and he flailed around strangely as he proclaimed, âAlright!â
Wulfric inclined his head, then turned to the front as he retook his seat, adopting his de-facto neutral expression with ease. âLet us pay attention, now,â he remarked. He didnât catch it, but Beau was mimicking him, trying his best to appear serious, intense focus overtaking the child.
The kingâs speech followed with pomp and circumstance. His fatherâs words were so familiar, it was on the level of white noise to Wulfric, so he tuned it out. Perhaps, Edinâs words today were slightly different, but the sentiment was the same.
It was always the same.
He was prepared for hours of boredom.
However, there was a change.
The doors groaned open, and a crowd started filling in. Those were commoners, but not just any commoners. They were the slummers. The homeless. The beggars. People he rarely interacted with, and people who were rarely â almost never â seen at these events.
âHey King! We're here for the cheese!â one of them declared.
It was curious that they were here. How had they found out about the event? Wulfric knew how deplorable literacy was among the lower classes, and he didnât take the poor as the sort of people whoâd read the newspaper even if they could.
Predictably, Edin had the doors forced close as soon as he could. The empty back rows had filled, but there were still a good two dozen people whoâd been forced to remain outside. They could have been let in, as there was space to stand in the back. Nonetheless, it was certain that Edin didnât want them here.
Each of us can thrive? What about them? he questioned for the first time. While he didnât mind welfare related projects per se, he had always let others, such as Auguste, deal with that. Whenever he bothered to think of them at all, he figured the poor were simply unlucky, or perhaps too undisciplined to succeed.
However, he had had several poignant conversations in the past few days. With Lady Saiya. With Callum. With Count Hendrix.
Now, seeing such a concrete example of a group of people being barred from a public event on Edinâs whim, he couldnât help but wonder.
If hypocrisy could burn, his father wouldnât just turn to ashes â heâd be eradicated from existence, not even a speck of dust remaining.
The event went on, though once again, in an unpredicted direction.
A new portrait wasnât so strange, but for it to have been defaced?
Wulfric raised his brows at the painting, a smirk twitching into existence. He suppressed it before it fully formed. Others were less careful, and the surprise in the church was audible. The gasps were followed by interspersed laughter, some nervous, some startled, some foolishly carefree.
He heard giggling in the vicinity from Anastasia and the children. His sister went on to perform the last song, or rather, a heavily parodied version of it. It was times like these where it occurred to him that Anastasia might secretly be a genius or a master manipulator. But then, he knew her, and she wasâŚWell, there was a reason she could befriend juveniles so easily.
Wulfric shook his head as he went back to watching the proceedings, perplexed by the oddities of children.
After the revelation of the painting, the event was cut short. Multiple royal servants began going up and down the pews, handing out tickets. Wulfric watched them, pondering.
When one of them came to their pew, he stopped her with a single hand motion. âI do not need one. Could you encourage those who do not wish or need for a ticket to leave them to you? I will ask the same of your colleagues. Can you do so as well?â She nodded eagerly.
Thereafter, Wulfric positioned himself strategically closer to the end of his pew, and intercepted any attendants who were in the vicinity, issuing the same request.
At the end of it, there were only a few whoâd decided not to take a ticket. Regardless, thereâd been extras initially. Altogether, it was enough to cover the remainingâŚpeasants.
They were lingering there outside, even as the rest of the visitors had left by now. Several of the impoverished who had received tickets were nervously talking to those who had not.
âFeh!â one of them spat on the ground. âWhat a fuckinâ sham! Knew it was too good to be true.â He snorted bitterly. âCâmon, letâs scram, thereâs nothinâ here for us,â he signaled to the others, to those who had been left without.
âArenât you here for the cheese?â Wulfric called out. He motioned to the servants whoâd accompanied him, tasking them with distributing the rest of the tickets.
âWha- so there is more?â Confusion abound among the group. âIs that because of Callum?â one of them whispered. âYou idiot, heâs a princeââ a woman berated him.
âCallum?â Wulfric immediately zeroed in on the man, however. âHeâs my youngest brother. Have you seen him?â
âUh, nayâŚYour highness. There was this man,â he proceeded to explain about a rich stranger theyâd met that morning. While most had cautiously dispersed in the direction of the restaurant once receiving their ticket, a few remained, pitching in with what information they had. From their expressions and posture, Wulfric noted as much suspicion as he did fear, though there was interest there too.
âI seeâŚâ he mused once he received a description of the man. It seemed this had been Alexander Deaconâs scheme. âThank you. Enjoy your cheese,â he smirked. He signaled the attendants to accompany him, and they took the short ride in a carriage towards The Royal Curd.
The building was an explosion of gold and yellow. Wulfric had barely arrived, yet he could feel his eyes smarting already.
As he and his retinue entered, a cheese-themed waitress greeted them. By the end of this, I will have had enough cheese for a lifetime.
âThey are with me. Send me an invoice, would you?â he requested. Not all of the ticket-distributors had tickets of their own, what with their little act of charity. He didnât mind paying the fee, though it did leave him with the question whether this restaurant would ever run a profit.
Upon being received, he ventured further in. Immediately, he was greeted with a large fountain. It was meant to invoke the feeling of spilling liquid gold, or melted cheese, perhaps, but all he could think wasâ
Why would you build a fountain which looks like itâs spewing urine?
Shaking his head, he found the table Anastasia and Farim had chosen. âGreetings, I hope you do not mind me joining you?â