Delivery for His Highness. [Pykichi x Azreth] (Taken from other forum)

Pykichi carefully climbed up the steps toward the castle door, both anxious and excited. As the oldest worker at the store, she had been given the important task of delivering the parcel of clothes that the castle had ordered. According to the owner's orders, she had bathed, done her hair, and borrowed newly made clothes from the store for the event. The quality of the worker reflected on the store, as it were. Pykichi had been outfitted in a high-necked, off white top with full sleeves, with a full length dress worn over it, of a muted red that tied below her bust, all made by the owner himself! She had never worn such fine clothes before, and it had been a long time since she had clothes that fit properly. She made sure to walk carefully on her way, keeping towards the grass to keep the dust low, avoiding any mud spots, and keeping her skirt high above the ground.

Shaking her head to clear her mind, she reached out and knocked on the door, stepping back a pace to be seen through the slits. It was a few moments until she heard movement behind the thick barricade, and a voice calling out for her to claim herself. "My name is Pykichi," she called out, "I am here to deliver a package from Taylorson's Tunics." At that, she held up her package for the other to see, and waited. Eventually the voice found satisfaction that she was who she claimed to be, and the door was opened up to admit her. With trepidation, she made her way inside, and stood off to the side, staring around at the size of the entryway. Everything was large, and expensive, and she couldn't help but gape. The footman walked off, and Pykichi was left there. Unsure of where to go, she started walking down the hallway, towards a large room.

Azreth felt his lip curl in a silent snarl, the heels of his boots clicking against the stone of the hallway as he stormed from his rooms. The Council had just revoked -- revoked! -- his petition to bring up more people from the Lands Below to see if they were eligible to be Chosen. The King ran a slender hand through his tousled blonde hair, further tangling the mess. He jerked his hand out roughly, wincing at the pain. The hour was late and the halls were dark; the only souls around besides himself were the ever-watchful guards on their rounds through the sprawling castle.

Azreth's green eyes scanned the halls, searching for something to strangle. He never got this angry, but he would be so much better off without the damned Council hindering his every move! How was he supposed to protect his country, his people, if they didn't let him be a damned king? He shook his head, jamming his hands into the pockets of his tight-fitting black trews, closing his eyes to the world. By now, he knew every inch of this castle; he hardly needed sight to navigate, even in the darkness of the night.

Azreth knew he had to see Valdien before he made a mistake; said or did something that he would surely forget. The man knew that without Valdien's touch on his mind, that all-encompassing acceptance and unconditional love, Azreth would be wroth with fury the entire night through. He withdrew a tin from his pocket, opening his eyes and grabbing a rolled cigarette from the tip, snapping it closed and sliding it into his pocket once more. He paused at one of the numerous sconces lining the walls, leaning close to light his cigarette from the flame. He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down. He exhaled smoke through his nose, closing his eyes once again and counting to ten.

With a growl, he turned on his heel, the expensive fabric of his cloak snapping as he turned, making his way out of the arched doors towards the castle's Courtyard. He had to see Valdien before he did something he would regret.

Pyki had been walking for what seemed like hours, trying to find somebody, anybody to help her. She could see that it had become dark through the windows, and inwardly cringed at what the owner would say when she got back. Quickening her steps, she plunged deeper into the castle, passing worn and faded tapestries too old to be presented closer to the entrance. Had she spent time among the upper class, she would have known that she was going in the wrong direction based upon the state of neglect of the objects lining the walls and the dirt on the sconces. However, to her eyes, everything was bright and grand. A castle fit for a king, as it were.

As the day continued to wear on, Pykichi became panicked, running down hallways and calling out for help. Eventually, she found a courtyard, though it was as deserted as the rest of the castle. Sitting down on a stone bench, she took off her shoes to rub one sore foot, then switching to the other. She had walked from the town to the castle, and then wandered about for hours, leaving her already worn shoes to become noticeably thinner in her adventure. Leaning back to rest her head against the top of the bench, Pykichi closed her eyes for a moment, trying to come up with a solution. So focused was she on trying to sort out her problem that other sounds drifted away, and she was left with the thoughts spinning in her head, her legs unconsciously brushing back and forth against the ground.

Azreth walked with purpose, his strides hurried, his entire body language obviously agitated beyond belief. The aged hallways stank of cheapness to his better senses, and he mentally reminded himself to have someone come in and fix up the East Wing before winter fully set in. So focused was he that the King didn't notice a small girl sitting on once of the benches between two sconces, half-hidden in the shadows.

Normally, the King was completely aware of his surroundings because of the training he had had as a young child to become an assassin for his father, but four glasses of wine and a terrible experience would do that to you. Azreth inhaled sharply, feeling his shin strike something solid, and before he knew it, the ground was rising quickly to meet him. His training took over as he rounded his shoulder, using the momentum from his fall to gracefully tuck himself into a forward roll, landing on his knees. The expensive fabric of his trews were far beyond repair; the skid on the rough grain of stone from his fall had ripped holes in the knees of them.

"Gods be damned!" Azreth stood up, snarling to himself before turning around to see what object deserved to be thrown out the damned window for tripping him. As he turned and saw the girl upon the bench, he heard a strangled cry escape her throat, her eyes absolutely riveted on the crown that lay in the middle of the hall, upended and scratched. The gold of the circlet reflected the wavering light of the torches, and her expression was one of utter despair.

"What have I done?" That was the only thought running through Pykichi's head as she stared at what could only obviously be her king's crown, which had somehow managed to land feet away from where the king was crouching on the ground. "I just tripped the King. The King. The King!" Her first cry had been one of pain as his legs had barreled into hers, but her second had been at shock from the look on his face. She sat, stunned disbelief on her face. Never had she thought that she would run into the king! Sure, it was his castle, and he lived there, but... Wouldn't he have been in bed, asleep? Or eating? Or anywhere other than here on the ground of the courtyard after tripping over her restless legs?

Slowly, her mind caught up, and she took in the state of his ruined pants and the look on his face. In an instant, she was bowing on the ground, completely forgetting the need to keep her clothes pristine. She began to babble incoherently, "I'm sorry, your Highness, I'm so sorry. I was lost and resting and my apologies but the bench was there and my feet were so tired and I never realized that anyone would be coming this way though I was hoping that somebody would because I've been lost for ages but I never thought that it would be you, m'lord, and ohmygod!" Eventually her rambling apology tapered off, and she stayed knelt, her face to the ground, shaking from embarrassment and unshed tears.

Azreth let out a sigh, hearing the girl's stuttered apologies. He raised a hand to scratch his nose, rising gracefully. He walked over to where his crown lay, upended on the ground. The soft metal was scratched, and an emerald had been dislodged from its setting. When the King spoke, his words were soft, quiet, as if his rage was all but forgotten.

"Girl, come here. Come see this." The King motioned her over, and she slowly obliged. He pointed a slender finger at the upside-down crown, battered and scratched. [i]"This is what being a King is like. You feel as if you are on top of the world, and suddenly, so quickly, so fast you didn't even realize it, everything you've known is gone. Your life had been completely turned around, your heart so sick with worry that you're fraying at the seams, falling apart from the inside out. See there, where the gold has become scratched?" The King shook his head slowly. "That is what happens when you realize even your own people are losing hope. And that emerald, there?" He pointed once more, his eyes haunted. "That is when the first tears fall, knowing there is nothing you can do to give people back that hope, that trust in you that they so cherished."

Pyki listened to King Azreth's monologue as he compared his kingdom to the shining, yet bent and scratched crown. No longer was it the proud symbol of a kingdom, but a tarnished mimicry of what used to be. The tears that she refused to release for herself began to fall down her cheeks at his story, and she watched him as he spoke, wishing that she could provide some kind of support or comfort for him. However, the thought was as laughable as the situation was serious. She was just a shop girl, a nobody. Delivering packages to the king was as close to nobility as she was going to get, and the fact that she ran into him tonight was a fluke of destiny. A mistake.

"My king," she spoke softly, "how can your people have hope, when you yourself have lost it?" She shook her head, startled by what she said. "My apologies, m'lord, I mean no disrespect. I can not understand your situation, or the affairs of state. I do not know the politics that must drive the sanest man crazy, nor the responsibilities that must keep you up as late as tonight. I was out of place to place criticism on so burdened a pair of shoulders." She bowed low again to keep her hands to herself rather than reach out to him as she had the urge to do, wiping away her tears that continued to stream at the desolation in his eyes to give her fingers something to do.

"No apologies are needed; who am I to throw aside the kind words of one who so sincerely means them?" A faint smile ghosted across the planes of the King's features as he rose from his crouch beside the crown, retrieving the battered circlet from the stone of the courtyard, placing it once more upon his head. "Forgive my rudeness; I neglected courtesy to wallow in my own despair. Yet how could I possibly despair when such a bright star of youth stands before me?" The King turned around, and once the crown had been settled onto his head again, he seemed an entirely different person.

He smiled warmly at the girl, sweeping into a low bow; perfect in its precision as he extended his hand with a twirl of the wrist. "King Azreth De'servian, young lady. His Majesty of the Floating Isle of Azreth, the lands that are untouched by time, Guardian of the Greater Herds that run beneath the sky. Might I be so bold as to ask your name, of your courtesy?" Emerald green eyes shone warmly in the dim light of the courtyard, his face no longer showing any trace of the deep sadness that had gripped him so terribly just moments before.

Blushing at her King's words, Pyki missed most of his expert bow. She looked up at the rustle of clothing, and faced his extended hand. His eyes seemed to be brighter, but she could not tell if he was sincerely happier, or just well practiced at hiding the pain. Hesitantly, she offered a small smile, a pink blush continuing to highlight her otherwise pale face, "Pykichi, your Highness. My name is Pykichi." Though she had introduced herself to him before in the fields outside of the castle, she could hardly fault him for not remembering. It had been a very quick introduction, and he had been quite tired at the time. Besides, who was she that a King would remember her name?

She started visibly, once again remembering why she was visiting the castle in the first place. Looking around, she found the package untouched on the bench where she had laid it earlier. Gingerly, Pykichi rose up away from the King, and retrieved the forgotten parcel. Holding it to her chest, she glanced back towards His Majesty, looking down towards the floor in respect. "I was sent to deliver this order of clothes, my King. I have been lost in this castle for quite some time now, and could not find anybody to ask for assistance. However, that does not forgive my boldness at sitting down in your courtyard. Please forgive me for overstepping myself." At this she paused and bit her lip, afraid to ask her next question, but seeing no other option. Pykichi began to fidget with the package, her eyes wandering over the cobblestones at her feet.

"I know that is is terribly rude to ask, but... and if I could find someone else, I would ask them instead, but... but might you know where I may put this?" She realized that after asking the question, she would then have little choice but to put it in said location, if he did in fact know where she could put it. Even if he didn't, he must know who would know, and her task would then be complete, and she would have to return to the shop. The thought of this made her wilt, for she found that she enjoyed the King's company. She felt as if she was more than just a shop girl in his presence. As if she, too, were a person of value, not just a servant.

OOC: Do Chosen share a different social status than others? Or are they still the same after bonding? i.e. Would she still be a shop girl?

The King smiled at the girl's nervousness; it was not everyday that someone of the Merchant class met the King, and he did not hold her at fault for her anxiety. "I believe my hands shall suffice for the time being." Azreth tipped her a wink, his eyes shining as she deposited the parcel in his hands. "I must say, your father makes the best clothes on the entire Isle, if not the sprawl of the World below us." The King shook his head, the faint ghost of a smile on his lips. "I ordered a new Cloak of Office from the man not three days past, and already he delivers."

Azreth beckoned to Pyki with his free hand, turning smartly on his heel to begin crossing the Courtyard, back towards the Royal Wing of the castle. He spoke to her as she walked, with the confidence and assurance that only royalty had, knowing that she would follow him. "No need to apologize, little one. The castle is a labyrinth even in the day; at night, for someone unfamiliar with the maze of the halls, I can imagine it'd be worse." A small chuckle escaped his throat, and he made an effort to slow his steps, to allow the girl to walk beside him. As King, of course, he knew that allowing her to walk beside him was an honor of the highest sort, if a bit improper, but he figured she didn't realize the loops and intricacies of Court Politics. He shook his head to himself, thinking her blessed.

What would it be like to grow up in a world outside of proper protocol, where a body could just be oneself, and not have to worry about eyes on them every minute of every hour? He turned to look down at her, the hem of his cloak drifting out behind him in a crisp, gentle breeze. "Tell me, Lady Pykichi, what are your plans for the rest of the evening? I must admit that I grow tired of the hens that pass as ladies here, always clucking and screeching and pecking at one another, and would enjoy your company. I haven't had the time to walk the town or the fields for some time now, and I find that I grow restless and weary without speaking with my people."

OOC: Chosen are elevated to the lowest noble rank: that of a Knight if they choose to actively enlist, or a Viscount [male] or a Marquess [ female ] if they'd rather live in peace unless drafted.

Pykichi followed the beckoning wave of her King as he started off, never giving the action a second-thought. As the King, he was someone to be followed and take orders from unquestioningly. "Err... my apologies, Your Highness. The clothes-maker is not my father. Rather, I'm just his apprentice." She glowed with pride at the compliment nonetheless. Though she did not say, she had actually helped create the Cloak, staying up late to make sure that it was done perfectly, quickly.

They passed numerous hallways, making various turns here and there. As the King slowed down, so did Pyki, instinctively refraining from ever taking that step up to his side. It was improper, and conceited of her to even want to do such a brazen thing. If anyone caught sight of her, and then relayed back to the shop keeper, her hide would be flayed for sure. Already she had tripped the King, which he had so kindly forgiven her for. Thankfully, nobody had witnessed her embarrassment and insult to the King. She would never have been able to live it down. To the best of her ability, Pykichi wanted to make sure not to make any other mistakes, lest she never be able to deliver another package again.

When he turned to talk to her, she was surprised by his question on many different levels. Though he said this evening, it was already late. Especially since she still had to walk back to town. At the invitation to walk with him and talk to him (which was a very surprising request, she thought, considering she was but a shop girl; what kind of conversation could they possibly have together? They had nothing in common, he being of such high status and all...), her first instinct had been to turn it down and head home. But as she thought about it, she wondered if she'd ever have a better chance at having some of her questions answered. And Pykichi had so many questions. She nodded her head in agreement, and followed the King out towards the fields, wondering how best to bring up her inquiries without sounding rude.

Azreth smiled as she addressed him, correcting her gently.
"You may call me whatever you'd like in private, my lady, but when in public, please refer to me as 'Your Majesty.' It'll save the both of us a glorious headache in case anyone happens to overhear us." The King lowered his hand, ruffling her hair affectionately before moving off in the direction of the fields.

He had known of course that she wouldn't refuse him -- most people didn't -- but if he had, he wouldn't've been offended. It took some time for people to realize, but he was the same as most men, if not a bit more honor-bound. He allowed his mind to wander as his feet trekked steadily on, comfortable in the silence he shared with the girl. After several minutes of listening to the night-bugs, the King spoke, his voice hushed.

"I hope you don't mind if we make a detour and visit my Bonded? He overheard us speaking earlier, and is quite curious to meet you." Azreth chuckled, the sound rich in the darkness. "He said he wanted to meet the people who fed my addiction, allowing me to dress like the 'strutting peacock' I act like." Azreth shook his head, teeth showing in a small grin.

While Valdien was indeed curious, Azreth knew that the girl was fit to burst with questions, and taking the long way about to where Valdien was would give her ample opportunity to ask them. The King wasn't nearly as adept as Zel with the Skill, but his own talents were sufficient for what he used them for. And the surface emotions practically radiating off of the girl spoke volumes. She was quite obviously interested in Azrein, but didn't want to seem to eager in front of her King, nervous that a single misstep would dishonor her or her family.

"Pykichi, if you've a mind, I would rather we drop all honorifics at this point. When we are alone together or around two men named Edward and Zel, please just call me King or Azreth. All of this 'Majesty' and 'Highness' and 'Grace' can really wear a man thin, you know. Of course, I promise on the De'servian name that I shall not dishonor you or allow dishonor to fall upon you or your family in any way, and know that I shall not be offended in the slightest if you call me by the name I was given." Green eyes shone with honest in the darkness, and Azreth placed a strong, slender hand on her shoulder, body language assuring her that he was sincere.

"Besides, if Valdien hears you calling me Your Majesty or anything of the sort, he'll spit on me and kick my hind end into next week." The King winked a green eye at the girl, hoping to startle a laugh out of her at the mental image that statement caused; if she could laugh, then he would know that she felt more relaxed around him. More than anything, Azreth wanted to be seen as Azreth the person, not Azreth the King. And laughter and familiarity with someone was the first big step towards friendship.

» Strangers Meeting in the Streets (Pykichi x Himura)
» A King, An Alchemist, A Duke. [Azreth x Zel x Edward]
» A Shattered Heart, A Shattered Hope. [ Azreth x Zel ]
» King Azreth describes being Bonded
» Lost in the Castle (Nick x Azreth)