A von Schmect in Arcon's Court

[Zelda]

I really must remember to lock my doors.

[Lord Tellurine]

Ophelia Roenseller watched in horror as Mary Thurgood threw her arms around and kissed Silas von Schmect, the greasiest, slimiest, and most foul man she ever had the pleasure of turning down. Ophelia then watched as Mary gave him a big sloppy kiss on the cheek and called him her lover. She shook her head in amazement and mused to herself, “She’s got to be the best actress I’ve ever met.”

Mary, who had just realized that this was all for not, as Holden and the other actors had left through the side door, took her arms from around Silas and gave him a sheepish smile. “My mistake,” she apologized. She took a small step back.

Silas took this moment to gaze up and down the small frame of the actress. He gave her an evil, but fascinated grin. “There’s been no mistake,” he told her smoothly. “You just stay right here. I need to talk to someone, and then we’ll head back to the castle for a night you won’t forget.”

Mary smiled weakly. “Oh? You’re a knight?”

“No,” he answered back, “but I always eat ‘round tables.” He laughed at his little joke. Mary didn’t… she wasn’t that good of an actress.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised her and he made his way over to the end of the bar where Lord Tellurine sat next to Wooden Bob. “Tellurine,” he said sharply, his voice slicing into Tellurine’s eardrum.

Tellurine turned from his unobstructed view of the bar to an unobstructed view of Silas von Schmect. He preferred the bar. “Silas,” he said politely, “what can I do for you?”

“My grandfather wishes to speak with you. I told him you were a waste of his time, but Grandfather never listens to reason. You’re to come to the castle… Now.”

“Excuse me,” interrupted Wooden Bob from the other side of Tellurine, “but can you tell me what time it is?”

Silas sighed and answered, “It’s about 5 o’clock.”

“That is so odd,” declared Wooden Bob. “I’ve been asking people that same question all day, and I’ve never gotten the same answer.”

Silas frowned at Wooden Bob, then began to ask what it was he was talking about, when he saw Tellurine shaking his head not too, so instead he asked, “Are you coming or is the conversation here too enlightening for you to leave?”

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” Tellurine stood and went with Silas, who latched his arm around Mary, pulling her out of the inn with the two.

Ophelia watched and observed, “Wow. She’s faster than I am.”

[Lord Tellurine]

The Company of Royal Union Dramatists had a campsite just outside of town. Six large enclosed carts that held laundry lines between them were circled around a fire. By the glow of the campfire and the light of the evening summer sun, Holden M. Christian made himself up to look like King Arcon.

“A little more nose on the top,” instructed Peggy who was watching Holden apply some kind of clay substance to his face.

“Like this?” asked Holden as he pressed a small lump of clay onto the bridge of his nose.

“That’s it,” responded Anton with pride. “Spitting image.” He punctuated the remark by spitting into the campfire. Peggy rolled her eyes.

“Here’s the costume,” announced Reg, as he came around one of the troupe’s carts. “I would’ve found it sooner, but Mary knew where it was kept.”

“Where is Mary?” asked Holden in a perturbed voice. “She’s gotten so flaky lately.”

“I wouldn’t say flaky,” interjected Harold. “I would say, ‘fun loving.’”

“Vicarious,” added Peggy quickly.

“Good with animals,” continued Anton, although he got a strange look from everyone.

Holden grabbed the costume and said, “She’s becoming a liability. I’ll get dressed and we’ll be on our way.” He went into the nearest cart, closing the door behind him.

Harold asked Reg, “What’s the deal with these enclosed carts you thespians all live in?”

Reg answered with a smile, “Each of these carts are a tour bust.”

“Tour what?”

“Tour bust,” repeated Reg. “When we’re on tour and we can’t afford to sleep in town we sleep out here, because we’re busted.”

“You thespians are strange,” stated Harold.

“You don’t know the half of it,” agreed Reg.

“King Arcon approaches,” came a voice and out of the cart strode Holden M. Christian, dressed up and looking like King Arcon. “Shall we to the castle?” he inquired.

Peggy looked at Harold. “I hope this works.”

Harold gave her a look of surprise. “What can possibly go wrong?”

[Zelda]

Oh gee, lets see,
1. Its Harolds idea
2. Dramatic plot lines dictate something will go wrong
3. Anton and Peggy are going along with it
4. Tell is writing it and therefore there will be at least 3 dastardly twists before it joins up with the other stories.

[Lord Tellurine]

The trip to the castle was not as easy as Harold had thought it would be. It seems that King Arcon, even if it were not the real King Arcon, was a bit of a celebrity in Arconia.

“King Arcon!” an old woman cried out from the other side of the street. “You must forgive me!” She had run across the street and planted herself on her knees in front of Holden faster than any old woman he had ever seen. “I do not have the money for my taxes this year! My two sons have died, and it costs so much to bury your children...”

Holden, as Arcon, boomed forth, “Then consider your taxes forgiven.” He placed his hand on her shoulder, as if knighting, or possibly blessing, her.

“Thank you, King Arcon. A thousand times thank you,” she said while kissing his hand repeatedly.

He brushed her aside regally and to the shouts of, "Craig save the King!" he continued his stroll to the castle.

Peggy angrily whispered to the actor, “You can’t do that!”

He said back smugly, “I just did. I AM King Arcon, you know.”

Peggy turned on Harold, who missed his stride momentarily when faced by her. “He can’t do that, Harold!”

“What’re talking about, Peggy? He just did. He made an old poor woman very happy.”

“He’s only supposed pretend he’s King Arcon so he can fool Baron von Schmect, not to excuse old women of their taxes.”

“Think of it as dress rehearsal,” Harold offered. He smiled at his theatrical reference.

“What’s that?” Anton asked, who was ignorant of any theatre terminology.

Peggy answered angrily, “It’s practice.”

“Oh!” Anton said nodding his head in some sort of agreement. “I suppose if I were to wear a dress I would need to practice too!”

Peggy gave him her usual glare of disgust. “Why do I even let you talk to me?”

“Because you won’t let me kiss you,” he reminded her, puckering his lips.

“Ugh. From bad to worse,” she opined. The group was almost to the castle gates.

[Lord Tellurine]

When Silas didn’t find his grandparents in the throne room he did what von Schmects do best. He yelled, “Gustav!”

The slightly portly and middle-aged servant with a neatly trimmed blonde mustache that had an upward curl on each end entered the room soon afterward. “Yes, sir?” he asked.

“Where are my grandparents?” Silas asked, more than slightly perturbed.

“They have gone to Queen Zelda’s chambers, sir.”

“Why?”

Gustav sighed a small sigh and replied, “It seems Queen Zelda’s chamber’s door war unlocked.”

“What kind of a Queen doesn’t lock her door?” asked Silas.

“A trusting one?” offered Mary, the young actress who was still being escorted by Silas.

“A forgetful one?” asked Tellurine, who also didn’t want to be there.

“The gossip I’ve heard,” offered Gustav, “is that the royal attorney has been… entertaining… in the room.” He shifted his weight from one foot to another, pondering if he should continue. “I overheard a few chambermaids giggling about it.” He shifted again. “He’s been asking them to help him… sort through his legal briefs.” He let out a breath of air, happy to be done.

Silas laughed. “Thank you, Gustav. We shall go to the Queen’s chambers then.”

Mary decried, “What kind of girl to you think I am?”

Lord Tellurine added, “And what kind of Lord do you think I am?”

Silas rolled his eyes. “My grandparents are there! Get your minds out of the legal system! We’re just going to talk to them.” They started towards the Queens chambers.

Queen Zelda’s chambers were beginning to look a lot like: An Evening with Latenight. There were lots of people, some of whom had never met, and someone, before the night was up, was going to get it.

The Baron croaked, “The people of Arconia will not stand being ruled by royal scribes, or thugs, or rulers of a country they think are our enemy!”

Moon shot back, “And you think they want to be ruled by you?”

Baroness von Schmect answered, “The von Schmects are the oldest family in Arconia. We’ve been around since the first days of the kingdom.”

“And apparently,” Krasala observed, cocking an eyebrow, “You have yet to die.”

“We can help you with that,” added Ken-Dall, with a roguish smile.

“Grandfather, what is going on here?” came the voice of Silas von Schmect.

Moon rolled her eyes as she saw him appear in the hallway. “Not another one.” Then she saw Tellurine.

He saw her also. He smiled weakly, “Hello, your Highness.”

Ken-Dall spat, “Tellurine! Are you in cahoots with these people?”

He said with the cheeriest smile he could muster, “Of course not.”
The effect was pathetic.

Krasala began to tighten the grip on her weapon. She didn’t like these new people. The grandson or Tellurine. The girl she didn’t know. “Who’s the girl?” she asked Silas, her mouth doing exactly as her brain wanted it to do.

“She’s my lover,” he said plainly.

“That’s not true,” she said back, confusing everyone else in the room.

“Presenting, King Arcon!” came another voice, really confusing people in the room.

Mary Thurgood saw the King and immediately recognized the robe. It was one of the troupe’s costumes. She looked at the King’s face. It was Holden M. Christian, her true love. She said, “I meant to say, Silas is more than just my lover. He is my soul mate.” She hugged him affectionately.

Holden ignored her completely and looked at Moon. “Queen Buffy!” he said eagerly. “How I’ve missed you in my absence!”

Krasala looked at the man pretending to be King. She looked at the three kids he brought with him. Her hand gripped her weapon even tighter now. It was the exact thing her brain wanted it to do, because it was curently thinking, This is going to get messy.

[Moonitic]

Moon rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. She looked to the young lady that Silas seemed attached to, & narrowed her eyes. "You look awfully familiar..." Then, she turned her gaze onto Holden, er...King Arcon. It had been a while since she'd seen the real Arcon, and she expected some changes. But there was something just not right about this one. She couldn't put a finger on it. Probably because she was rubbing her temples with them. "Likewise, I'm sure Your Highness."

[Swordsman]

Before 'Arcon' had a chance to reply, the Baron barked, "This is a castle, not the common marketplace!" For behind the thespians and children a dozen more people suddenly piled into the already crowded room, Slade and Tæbryn at their head. They were all a bit flushed and out of breath, mostly dirty - but armed to the teeth and all wearing black somewhere.

"Aye, but since the fight ain't in the marketplace, we'll settle for second best!" one of the men shouted from near the back.

"Who on Craig's name are you all?" demanded Ken-Dall.

Slade bowed. "Meet the rest of the elites of the Strike Force Aiovus, along with their new mascot, Tæbryn of Muu."

[Moonitic]

"Now, wait a minute..." Moon said, again. "Can't we discuss this peacefully?" Then, she stopped, her brows knitted together. Since when has Arcon ever called me "Buffy"? Then, it hit her...Holden. Holden was posing as Arcon. Well, if he wanted to be Arcon so badly, & blood would spill anyway, she figured-in a moment of wild abandon-what the heck? Besides, she didn't know when she'd have the chance to take on the real King of Arconia. "Arcon, you rotten beast!" she shrieked. "This is all your fault. You left me alone to deal with all of...this! And now look what happened?" With that, she stepped up to him and kicked him soundly in the shin.

[Swordsman]

Appreciative laughter from the Force. "Oh, we can still resolve this peacefully," Slade observed. "That all depends on how many want to make a stand."

[Lord Tellurine]

Holden began hopping on one leg and cursing in an un-royal like way. He started to wonder how Moon could have ever married seeing how violent she is to men in her life. Peggy kicked him in the other shin, which shut him up. He cleared his throat and said in his best regal voice, “Bloodshed does not need to be spilt here, for I, King Arcon, the rightful ruler of this land, is here.”

“Poppycock!” shouted Baron von Schmect. “King Arcon and a bunch of ruffians cannot stop the inevitable! We were bred to rule this land!”

Krasala replied back, “Were you also bred to die in this vain attempt?”

The Baroness refuted, “Our men are stationed all around this castle. It is you who won’t leave here alive!”

Krasala looked to Slade who reported, “We killed five of them on the way up. I estimate the rest of them will be here shortly.”

Sure enough they were.

The bedchambers of Queen Zelda of Muu were getting crowded. The Baron and Baroness of von Schmect were faced by Krasala, Lady Moon, and Ken-Dall, who were followed by Lord Tellurine, Silas von Schmect, and Mary Thurgood, who were just to the left of Holden M. Christian, Harold, Anton, and Peggy, who had stepped away from Slade, Taebryn, and a dozen members of the strike force, who had just been flanked by fifteen of the von Schmect’s personal guard. Suddenly, the wardrobe flung open and out stepped Latenight, royal counsel to the King and Queen. He blinked groggily and asked, “What’s going on here?”

[Swordsman]

Krasala looked around slowly. "Moon, Ken-Dall, children, get down." She turned her attention to the man standing just behind Slade, and blew a kiss. "Ozz, dear, it has been too long." Finally, to Tæbryn: "You may be needing this."

Unsheathing one of her daggers, she tossed it handle-first to the orphan.

[Swordsman]

As Tæbryn's fingers closed around the hilt of the knife, the group of elites simply exploded. Those on the edges leapt straight outward even as they drew their weapons, knocking the von Schmects' guards aside, and making room for the inner ring to draw their own weapons and join the fight. Krasala pulled out her second dagger and a smaller knife that seemed to appear from her boot, and dove into the action.

[Moonitic]

"Now wait..." Moon attempted as the battle began. Before she could finish, someone grabbed her & wrenched her toward the wall, where they covered her body with theirs. Ken-Dall grabbed Mary & dove behind a table, knocking it over. The kids flattened themselves against the wall as well, eyes wide as they watched the action.

Moon stood there, pinned between the wall & someone's chest. Someone who was definitely male. Hands held her wrists to keep her from getting away. "Stay here," he said, his voice muffled by her covered ears.

[Lord Tellurine]

"If only I had a weapon!" cursed Anton, eager to step into the fray.

"You'll get yourself killed!" argued Peggy, her eyes wide with fear.

Anton smiled. "I didn't realize you cared."

Peggy shouted, "Someone give this boy a weapon!"

Latenight pondered the scene he had stepped into. There was some sort of battle taking place in the Queen's bedchambers. He giggled, obviously still intoxicated from the night/morning before and stepped safely back into the wardrobe.

"Duck!" shouted the person holding Moon to the wall and they both went down as something large hit the wall where they had once been standing. Tellurine looked at his pregnant Queen. "Are all right?"

"Tellurine? YOU saved me?"

One of the von Schmect men fell next to him. A sword was run through him. "So far," Tellurine admitted.

[Swordsman]

And as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The queen's bedchambers, once pristinely kept by the staff, were now spattered in blood, furniture skewed about, curtains and bedclothes cut and shredded. A man lying in one corner groaned in pain, until a swift swordstroke ended his suffering. Three men and a woman stood over seven of the bodyguards, who now lay on their faces on the floor, hands clasped behind their heads. Krasala briefly surveyed the scene, then removed a timepiece from her pocket and checked it. "That took a full three minutes," she told those assembled. "It has been too long. Don't you know we've a war coming on?"

Ozymandias - Ozz - rolled his eyes at her. "Come now, you know prisoners take longer."

"No excuses, darling." But this was with a smile on her face, just before she kissed him.

"Since when did the Swordsman leave you in charge?" a thin, pale fellow asked her.

"I don't see you stepping up, Sinji," the woman over the prisoners retorted.

"You hush, Ilithia!"

"Just because you're threatened by a woman..." Krasala prodded him. "Good to see you again, all the same."

"Indeed."

Moon, Ken-Dall, Tellurine, and the rest were simply silent.

Another woman, Sayala, turned to Tæbryn. "You're bleeding, my dear!"

Tæbryn grimaced a bit as she squeezed a cut on her shoulder. "Not half as bad as he is." She jabbed one of the bodies on the floor with her toe.

"So." Krasala looked around again. "Who exactly are we overthrowing here?"

[Moonitic]

"You're overthrowing me," Moon answered, eyes narrowed. She took a step toward them, head high. "The one Nækos told you to protect. The one Queen Zelda entrusted to run the kingdom. The mother of the heir to the Arconian throne."

Silence followed, as the company digested the news.

[Swordsman]

"Ah, alright. So long as we're clear on that." Krasala seemed quite satisfied with this answer. "Thank you for the clarification." She looked once more to the elder von Schmects. "You may go now. Just don't ever let me, or any of those with me, see you again."

[Moonitic]

Moon raised an eyebrow at Krasala. Then, she turned to the Von Schmect's, who seemed a lighter shade of pale than usual. "You must excuse my guard," Moon said. "She is merely doing her job. Please partake in a meal before you return to your home. It is such a long ride." To Mary, who had abandoned Silas to help Holden to his feet, Moon said, "He simply isn't worth it. You deserve better." She paused a moment, then added, "And I know I've seen you before..." Moon shook her head. "At any rate, Tæbryn, you need to get that cut tended to. I'm sure Ken-Dall would be happy to help. Tellurine, uh...thank you. That will be all for now. Kids...get home. And someone needs to get Latenight out of that wardrobe. I imagine I'll be needing him soon enough." When she finished clucking orders, surprising herself at her efficiency, she clasped her hands in front of her. No one moved. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

[Swordsman]

"On the contrary," Slade spoke up, "please do not partake of a meal before leaving. I think the cook would not very well appreciate that."

"Indeed," Krasala frowned at them. "Sinji, would you care for the honors?"

He smiled sarcastically (yes, it is quite possible) at her patronizing look. "Alright, everybody, just do your thing." He moved to the wardrobe and began hauling Latenight out, hefting him over one bony shoulder. "Thank you ever so," he told Krasala.

Sayala, meanwhile, was helping Tæbryn to tie a strip of cloth over her arm, while the rest of the Force began busying themselves with binding up the prisoners, collecting the bodies under the window for disposal, attempting to straighten up the room, and helping people up and bringing them back to their normal selves. Krasala pulled back the blood-stained top blanket from Zelda's bed, exposing clean linens underneath, and guided Moon to sit on them. "Now, Ms. Buffy, how difficult do you really wish to make this?"