He could remember that his favorite spot was by the balcony. He would play there for hours, enjoying the breeze. And then Hadrian would come inside, and he would tackle the man, and insist on play horse. They would run around the palace like maniacs, and he was shouting...

He dressed himself alone before the panel of mirrors. Hadrian had insisted on servants but he was adamant in his refusal. The soldier went all ruffling his hair and started to rant how he was going to make the dynasty proud...

Life was a lot more complicated when Hadrian Evaristus was tailing you.

And the bad thing, his father wasn't doing anything about it.

Even insisted on it.

He surveyed the robes he had on. Dark purple, with threads of gold. Fit for a king...and he wasn't even crowned yet. He walked away from the dresser and proceeded to the adjoining room - his own library.

He always did like reading. Now where was the book he had last night...

Ah, there it was.

He climbed up a ladder propped on the bookshelf and made to reach for the book...

SERVANTS ARE A MUST! IT WAS A SHOW OF POWER! POWER! WHY NOT HAVE A MULTITUDE OF SERVANTS? WHY NOT HAVE PEOPLE KISSING YOUR VERY SHADOW? IT WAS THE LOVE!

...

OH FINE, SO HE WANTED SOME SERVANTS. IT WAS ONLY BECAUSE THE CHIMNEY NEEDED CLEANING AND SOOT WAS FALLING INTO HIS PORRIDGE...

Meh.

Knocking politely on the door to the Prince's quarters (POLITELY meaning three thuds on hard wood that would make anyone else's knuckles bruise if they weren't wearing gauntlets like him) and .... entered. Right word here would be BARGED. LIKE, BOOM, HAI PENRIL.

"My Lord?" Hadrian asked, blinking and looking around the book he was carrying. More Etiquette.

"My Lord... what are you doing up there?" Hadrian reached around and pulled on the rope to summon the servants. "You could break your neck or... fall down.... have the servants do it."

YES! VICTIMS!

He found his bookmark still in place and made himself comfortable on the ladder. Back in the Pony he could read a good book for hours on end standing, because customers one way or another needed to be attended to and all that stuff.

He heard knocks on his door but didn't bother looking up from his page.

"My Lord?"

Penril could have sighed. Hadrian again. By the gods he could swear that the man was too busy with his duties. He reluctantly shut his book. He had barely finished the first paragraph on it...

"My Lord... what are you doing up there?" Hadrian reached around and pulled on the rope to summon the servants. "You could break your neck or... fall down.... have the servants do it."

"There is no need for that." Penril said as he stepped down from the ladder. At once bowing pages were at the door. Penril eyed them askance and dismissed them anyway with an off-hand wave of his hand. He was still not used to ordering people around like that. The servants in the palace were all stiff with formality; they scurried around like frightened rats if he so much as smiled at them or gave them friendly nods. He missed the rowdy company of his staff from the inn...

"What is it?" he asked. "I'm occupied with this book..." he raised it.

"What is it?" he asked. "I'm occupied with this book..." he raised it.

"Must I remind your Highness that he has an appointment with his father?" Hadrian asked, a playful smile on his lips. AH, fatherly LOVE. He could remember his own times with his own father. Military man, muchly, but it was so fun to see the feared Major Evaristus help his son muck in the stables... Ah, good times, back in the day you could throw poo at each other~

Ah well. Maybe he could schedule the Prince to muck the stables? A BRILLIANT IDEA. Good old bonding. Ahhh... the days with stinkbombs...

Oh wait. Stop thinking of flying poo for a sec.

"After that..." Hadrian reached around his armor and took out a scroll from a belt pouch. Unrolling it was like unrolling a roll of toilet paper. SIMPLY ENDLESS. "You have a scheduled lesson with the Quartermaster regarding economics, dance and etiquette lessons and a 30 minute break." Hadrian read from the scroll.

"Any questions, Highness?"

"Must I remind your Highness that he has an appointment with his father?" Hadrian asked, a playful smile on his lips. "After that...You have a scheduled lesson with the Quartermaster regarding economics, dance and etiquette lessons and a 30 minute break. Any questions, Highness?"

Penril folded his arms. Honestly, these lessons. He'd had them before, all he needed was a little review. He did not need anything fancy - he can dance if the situation called for it, and he knew the economics far better than the kingdom's accountants, having experienced it firsthand. Etiquette...bah.

"I think I'll go to my father."

He swept out of the library and into the hallway, his robe trailing behind him. It took him two days to get used of the trailing clothing; for one he thought it absurd that the tailors and seamstresses made royal clothes as such. What a good waste of cloth!

...but then when you DO analyze it, your clothes also did its part cleaning the palace floors...

Navigating around the palace was easier now, too. He remembered many of the corridors and hallways - he only needed a little bit of review and time to learn all those secret passages and he'd be fine.

Soon he was standing outside the King's door. He raised his right hand and knocked three times.

"I think I'll go to my father."

Bah, he expected as much. Hadrian shrugged and threw the scroll over his shoulder.
...

A minute later, he turned, picked it up, and rolled it, tucking it back into the side pouch.

Ah well, those chores were non-existent anyway. Just made them up, see how the Prince reacted. The High Commander tailed his charge. All these years and nothing changed. Ah, the lav. He remembered they used to ditch these lessons all the time. Albeit Penril using his 'pouty face'.

He followed Penril as the Prince swept out of the library and into the hallway, his robe trailing behind him. Trailing robes. Made him look like a gigantic bat.

Hadrian stifled the laugh. NO TRAITOROUS THOUGHTS. CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.

Soon they were standing outside the King's door. Penril raised his right hand and knocked three times.

"I'll pick you up when you ring the bell." Hadrian spoke up. "Sword practice starts soon after your meeting with your father, and I trust you won't skip that."

Turning on his heel, he left.

Belenus had felt very good, ever since his son had returned. His servants remarked that he was getting some color back to his cheeks, and he certainly had more of an appetite than he used too. Still though, the king was very ill, and it would take months before he’d be ready to tromp about the city of Olencia again… if he ever made it that far. No, but he was much improved with Penril back in the palace. His eyes were light again, proud of his son’s learning and how he looked in the royal robes. He fretted over Penril – the boy was all he had to think about, really. The running of Olencia had been secondary for awhile, due to his illness and to his son’s return.

He’d risen early that morning (at least as much as he could rise), and he waited impatiently over his breakfast for his son to come visit him. Belenus had plenty to chatter with him about, and he wondered how his son was doing… Three knocks informed him of his coming, and he called, “Enter!” when they sounded.

((OOC: Auughhh... great suckage, I'm sorry.))

“Enter!”

Penril let himself in with a small smile. His father brightened up immediately at the sight of him. He walked in brisk steps toward his old man and had a hand on the king's shoulder, which glowed briefly with magic. His father was definitely improving.

"You're getting better each day," he said. "That's good..."

He let his hand fall to his side and looked at his father. So many things to do and say. So many that you never could know where to start. Penril sat down beside his father instead.

"Would you like to go outside? The sun is too good to pass up."

His son swept into the room, and Belenus smiled to himself. There was a bit of him, and a bit of Penril's mother, in the boy, and it made him proud to see him so strong. He laid a hand on his shoulder, making it tingle for a moment. "You're getting better every day," said his son. "That's good..." Belenus almost winced. He didn't like that his son had to see him in this state. It was embarassing for the old king, but not so much that he did not want to see Penril. Gods, he was happy that he had been blessed by his return. Penril had even given up the position of Ablest for him. He would make a fine king.

"Would you like to go outside? The sun is too good to pass up," Penril offered, and Belenus hesitated. It was not often that he tried to move from his bed too much, simply because he was weak. Before Penril had returned, even the sunlight didn't seem like much light... Not wanting to disappoint his son, and to prove (more to himself than to Penril) that he was still a healthy, strong old man, he nodded. It took some effort on Penril's part, but soon, the two of them were seated in the balcony of the king's master bedroom, overlooking the city of Olencia -- the city that the Tarans had ruled for ages past. Belenus felt his eyes tear up -- he hadn't looked out at Olencia in the sunrise for a long time. He hid his emotions from his son.

"Penril," he started. "Do you know what legacy you are to continue?"

((OOC: Somehow in this conversation, I'll work in a mention of the other heir [Oriana]...))

His father nodded. Penril smiled brightly and went to work, first supporting his father's weight, then slowly lifting him up, slowly and carefully. They also had a slow walk toward the balcony, where after making sure that his father was comfortable, Penril took the chair beside his and quietly looked out into the whole of Olencia.

A small memory tickled his mind then; a memory of his younger self sitting on his father's shoulder as Belenus pointed out buildings to him, pointing out like that and then asking him to name them. Hadrian would be close by, inside or maybe beside them by the balcony, hand always on his sword hilt, watching, occasionally joining in the laughter or so...

"Penril," The King started. "Do you know what legacy you are to continue?"

He nodded, too mesmerized with the view to actually put his thoughts into words. The Olencia spread before his eyes was weakened from within because of internal strife. When his father had gone and it was time for him to rise up, Penril would do his best to stabilize the kingdom first and then find someone who could take care of it for him.

He was never one to be pinned down to a place forever - his Slayer upbringing taught him that. He would have to move on after his work was done here. He was always moving on....