II. He watched his daughter, the princess-heir Tara, play among the sculpted bushes, kicking a shiny red ball, her pet poring bouncing along beside her. He couldn't help but smile as she gleefully rolled her ball across the grounds bathed in clear afternoon sunshine. A refreshing summer breeze caressed the green leaves of grass and tree and shrub alike, like the touch of a loving mother.
His daughter's joyful cries offered fanfare that made him want to just laugh out loud, the responsibilities of kingship forgotten if only for awhile. But of course the servants were watching and it would not do to have them think he'd gone mad. Without turning his head, he glanced at the retinue of servants waiting under a nearby shade, an entire flock of mother geese looking out for a single gosling. He turned his attention back to his daughter who was now running up to him, poring pet skipping along with her.
"Father! Father! Did you see what Peery just did?" the breathless princess asked as he gathered her in his arms. The poring Peery stood in front of him, its round gelatinous form jiggling, lop-sided smile plastered on its face as it watched him with beady eyes. A backpack was strapped to its back, like a grade-schooler ready for school, of all things.
"It fetched my ball!" gushed his daughter, hugging his neck and leaping down to take the shiny red ball from the poring's backpack.
He laughed good-naturedly as the princess held the shiny ball in his face. "Well, you've been training him well! Any other tricks he can do?"
"Still working on it!" was her only reply. She threw the ball across the grounds again, running along after it, her pet in tow.
"Good luck, my little Tara!" he called after her. "But come back soon for a snack! Little princesses and porings get hungry quite often." He chuckled and nodded towards the princess' head nurse, who in turn started to instruct her retinue to set up the afternoon refreshment here on the lawn.
Liveried servants brought out folding chairs spaced around a table upon which was spread pristine blue cloth, striped with the purple and gold that were the colors of the Royal House of Prontera. One of the handmaidens began to slice pieces out of a large round Christmas Cake, Princess Tara's favorite food from far Al De Baran. Apple juice in transparent fruit-shaped bottles lay chilling in a bucket of ice near the table--Peery's pet food and the Princess' beverage of choice as well.
More of the princess' nurses stood in a nearby shade, like an entire flock of mother geese watching out for a single gosling. Past them, he saw his chief advisor striding across the lawn towards him, a stack of rolled-up parchment in his arms.
He sighed. The gods forbid he tackle affairs of state on a glorious summer afternoon such as this. But there was no helping it. The Commonwealth prospered well under his rule, but if he slackened, everything might come tumbling down again. He could never forgive himself if he failed the people's trust.
"Your Majesty!" Chief Advisor Kurt Fenwick bowed as he reached the King. "I've prepared the reports for the day."
King Tristram III nodded at his chief advisor, smiling. Tufts of graying hair barely covered the top of his advisor's head, giving an overall impression of untidiness that clashed with the snappy way he carried his crisp robes of office. "Very good, Advisor Fenwick," he replied. The man had been his advisor since he ascended the throne many years ago, but they have been friends for many more.
He watched his daughter as the Kurt droned on, reading off various reports that dealt with the Commonwealth's economy and general well-being. He nodded and gave his decisions on a few key points, which Kurt scribbled down on a large brass-bound tome. The adviser has commandeered nearly half the Princess' picnic table with his rolled-up scrolls and books. Princess Tara joined them before they were done, to eat some of the Christmas Cake and drink apple juice with Peery the Poring.
"...And, Majesty, Sir Valcrist of the Sword of Valor is happy to inform you that the Morroc Incident has been well taken cared of," Advisor Kurt was saying, as he forked a piece of Christmas Cake into his mouth. They had passed from economic issues to the current goings-on. He chewed thoughtfully for a while. "It's weird though."
First, Payon, then Morroc, and now Prontera. These strange phenomena still baffled the mages of Geffen. They called it Doors, extra-dimensional gateways that spewed forth monsters. The Payon Door spawned a huge monster that would have leveled the Forest Village had Laire Allicran and the Sword of Virtue not been quick to respond. Valcrist Lenneth and the Sword of Valor was dispatched just as quickly when reports of the same phenomenon flew in from Morroc. Last week though, a Door had opened right here in Prontera, in the slums district, and Syn Laelithar's Sword of Guidance was assigned to handle it. What his chief advisor commented on as strange was the fact that the Pronteran Door did not spawn any monsters at all.
"Syn reports that the site has been cordoned off from the public and his best swordsmen are on duty around the clock guarding it. It's been almost a week since it opened, Your Majesty," Kurt informed him.
"This Doors Phenomena, Kurt...do you think it's Ragnarok?" King Tristram said in a low voice, glancing to make sure his daughter did not hear. Little Tara was busy spooning so much Christmas Cake into a purring Peery.
Chief Advisor Kurt stiffened visibly. "Oh...ah, uhm," was all he managed to splutter.
"Never mind, Kurt." Ragnarok lay heavy in each man's heart in Rune Midgard. The Final Battle, the destruction of Rune Midgard, was something everyone would rather forget. But King Tristram thought the affair of the Doors was somehow connected to the twilight of the gods. "Anything more?" he asked quickly, trying to ease the advisor's discomfort.
"Ah, nothing more, Your Majesty. Just another minor thing: reports of a plague running through the slums of Prontera. But I've informed St. Capitolina Abbey, and I'm sure they'll be able to sort it out." Advisor Fenwick's relief at the change of subject was obvious.
The King nodded. Plagues were a thing of the past now with the superior healing powers of the priests of the Abbey. Still, his heart filled with dread that it might spread, that Tara might...no, that was silly. The slums lay in the far southeastern corner of Prontera, the only part of the Shining Capital that literally did not shine. And he had faith in the priests' powers.
His reverie was shattered by a sudden sound.
"Oh! Daddy! Did you hear that? Peery burped!" cried Princess Tara happily.
