RP:King Gone Soft

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary: King Macon (still not himself after Muzo extracted too much rage) hears of the Larketian family who fled Larket in secret because members of their family, who are witches, were subject to excessive harassment due to overzealous use of the witch detection radar. The King consults his Queen on how they should respond. He seems ready to decommission the witch detection radar entirely, to the disappointment of a hawkish Queen who instead suggests that he change policy around the radar to avoid such harassment, without decommissioning the machine entirely, and that he also offer the Larketian family a gold settlement and invite them back to the city.

As the Queen speaks with the rage-neutered King, she grows agitated by this softer King and tries to provoke him.

King’s Office, Fort Freedom

Macon, as the King of Larket, gets daily and weekly reports on many things going on in and affecting the city. For the past month or so, the most interesting to him has been the meticulously gathered information from the Witchcraft Detection Net at The Academy of Magics. Pages of reports detailing each dispatch that is made to investigate anomalies detected by the machine, as well as significant changes to the heat map, which the Rage Knight finds the most illuminating, along with the number of arrests being made. It is one of those changes to the heat map, which keeps a count of instances of witchcraft for given areas of Larket over time, that catches his eye today, a significant drop to be precise. He sends for the supervisor in charge of delivering this data to the fort, with the intention of commending (Total Turkey Bacon move) him and his technicians on a job well done, reducing the use of witchcraft within the city. When this meeting occurs however, the reason for the reduction comes out. It is because ‘they’ve lost the family that lives in that area.’ “Lost?” The Fury Knight raises a brow, but does not growl, and awaits an explanation. The story he is told troubles him. The family is rumored to have fled Larket to escape harassment from those policing the use of witchcraft, and upon hearing this The King has his chin in his hand, seated at his desk, and is lost in thought. He sends for two people; one of the officers in charge of enforcement of the policies that have been put in place with the construction and use of the machine for his recounting of the details of this, and Josleen (for council?). When they both are in the king’s office the full retelling of events is given to both Macon and his queen.

Josleen‘s light schedule has gotten lighter by the day as her pregnancy advances. Since beginning her relationship with Macon, the bard hasn’t picked up a single romance novel for her thirst for such fantasies had been sated by an energetic king. However, in recent weeks, the King has been less energetic and Josleen has once again taken up the romance novel habit. When Macon sends for her, she’s lying on the chaise in the royal bedchambers reading a salacious scene in Conquered Passions, a novel in which a rugged King takes the maiden daughter of a renowned mage as his lover. There’s a plot tenuously strung between the heaving bosoms and breathless moans. The cover illustrates a King (who is swole, naturally) kissing his maiden’s neck from behind, slowly lifting the sheer form-hugging dress. Her eyes are closed and lips parted wantonly. The throne is inexplicably pictured behind them, as if incidental to the intimate scene. Also inexplicable: why is he shirtless? Why are they both wet? The sudden knock on the door flusters the red-faced queen and she quickly withdraws her hand from under the blanket. “Yes, yes? What?” she calls irritably. She greets Macon with a kind smile as she enters his office, but there is no hint of her recent activity. She’s more or less given up on communicating her mood to him in light of his change in appetite for such things. “What’s this about, love?” She sits near Macon and listens to the story, gauging his reaction as the drama unfolds. “What will you do?”

Macon is disturbed most during this account of events by the fact that a family of innocent Larketians have been driven out of their home by his regime. “These were not criminals…” He pauses, thinks, and looks towards the radar supervisor for an out, “We are sure of tha’?” But he finds none as the man shakes his head in the positive. The family was of no danger to anyone. The king frowns. “This is not wha’ the device was meant’be used for,” he says towards Josleen. Normally he would be fuming due to the fact that this harassment was allowed to go on with so many aware that it was happening, but now, thanks to Muzo’s handiwork, he thinks that he is to blame for the strict instructions for the use of the detection net and the information it provides. “We canno’ ‘ave Larketians fleein’ the city, and being chased out by our own guard.” This is not an answer to the queen’s question, and he doesn’t provide one, because he doesn’t have one.

Josleen opens her hands as if to gesture to a solution that fell from the King’s lips right into their laps. “Then you must rein in the guard. Though…” She glances at the technician and dismisses him with a flat smile. Once he is gone, she speaks to her husband, “I worry about the damage these rumors could do. They would fuel the likes of Pilar and other critics. We should think about damage control. There may be an opportunity here...” She hesitates. Normally the King would hate this idea, but the typical Macon isn’t here today. He hasn’t been here for a while. “We could make a big show of reining in the guard, say Larket will not tolerate harassment of law-abiding citizens, witches or otherwise, and briefly side with our own critics, take the wind out of their sails.”

Macon thanks the technician and officer and is silent while they leave. Once the royals are alone, he nods to his wife in agreement with much of what she is saying. Who is to say whether or not an uncompromised Fury Knight in all of his glory would refuse this tactic put forth by the queen. He has executed the witch accused of hexing Josleen, and since her ordeal was the main cause of the extremely strict policies put in place, perhaps the death of that witch is enough payment for such a crime. What the true Furious King might have done might never come to light, but what is certain is that this version of the former Veratoakan sheriff is open to the idea of making a move to appease their detractors if it means easing up on his own people and fighting to regain their trust, which seems to be waning given the story the guard and the technician just told them. He raises a brow at ‘there may be opportunity here…’ There was a time not so long ago that hearing her say something like that, and scheme like this would have stirred something in him (what wouldn’t stir something in him though?), and they would barely be able to put the finishing touches on a plan before he couldn’t keep his hands off her any longer, but now it is a less lecherous raise of his brow, only showing his interest in what she is about to say. He nods again, “Alrigh’. We should act quickly then. Don’ allow this t’get any worse.”

Josleen's smile fades a little as she watches Macon think and react. Is it the lighting, or his age, or has his face truly changed? He looks different without that pinch between his brows, or that scowl she'd expect at the mention of detractors, and, sadly, he's a little less handsome now without those things. Where has his brutal focus gone? It no longer feels like being with a lion, but instead like being with a cub--a little like how it felt with Kelovath, really, whom Josleen had loved because he was the type of man who women like her were supposed to love, and he was kind and willing to do -almost- anything for her, but not quite anything. Macon has, for the past few months, felt as if he would do anything Kelovath would have done, and more, much much more, if meant she was satisfied. And he inspired in her a passion she hadn't felt in years, at least nothing that endured beyond the first few encounters. But now this, a strange neutering so subtle it seems all of the fort staff has missed it. Augusta mentioned something to Josleen, something about Macon seeming distracted, though distracted wasn't quite the right word. His mother and wife struggled to find the right one. "Yes... but what will you say? The wording matters. We can't have--" A knock at the door. A courier delivers a note. Lord Reinhardt has returned from his sabbatical in Venturil and is available to meet with the King whenever he is needed. Once the courier has gone, Josleen continues, "I was saying, the message matters. We cannot have the guard think that we have undermined them in front of the people. They protect our property and lives, after all, and they're the key to Larket's strength. They won't take a public spanking lightly. It's a delicate line to walk."

Macon does furrow his brow now, when Josleen asks him what specifically he will say, not in anger, but in thought. The courier comes in and The Rage Knight silently laments the timing, Lord Reinhardt isn’t a man that is nearly as useful during a loosening of policy as he is during a hardening of one. With the messenger gone, the king thinks a moment more before speaking. “We will not blame the guard,” he says decisively. “We will reiterate the intention of the machine’s use was t’make Larket safer for everyone, and tha’ it will be shu’ down indefinitely until We can come up with a method of using it tha’ does not ‘arm innocen’ Larketians. We mus’ also find this family and welcome them back.”

Josleen winces slightly when Macon suggests shutting down the machine entirely. To the hawkish Josleen, that seems like a radical neutering of the fort’s power, perhaps in line with Macon’s apparent neutering. Would the old Macon ever have suggested such a radical change? And the new Macon inspires in a new Josleen, a bolder one, who argues with him more, pushes back, steps up to rule when she believes he is failing, such as now. “Are you sure that’s the best path? It is a powerful tool at your disposal that can do a lot of good. Perhaps the tool can continue to catalog the use of witchcraft, but guards are no longer dispatched when witchcraft is detected. Instead, the catalog is used retroactively when a crime occurs. First a crime, then suspicion of witchcraft, then check that suspicion against the log to have it confirmed or denied.” She pauses thoughtfully. “The Fort’s policy can’t appear to be too erratic or prone to change on whim. It would look indecisive.”

Macon , the old one, wouldn’t even have considered such a 180 degree turn on the use of the machine, let alone actually suggest it. When Josleen pitches that they should not make such an excessive change as a knee jerk reaction to this situation, he is happy to agree. The Rage Knight nods, frowning, “Very well. We won’ shu’ it down.” He pauses to think how best to word a statement to the public that informs them that they will still be monitored without the message that the crown is easing up being lost. Perhaps just reiterating what the queen just said to him, with some fine tuning, will be sufficient. That the machine is a powerful tool that can still do good for the sake of all Larketians. “You’re righ’, but wha’ I said still stands. We need t’act as soon as possible.”

Josleen feels a germ of annoyance as Macon feebly tries to assert his power and dominance by reiterating that they need to act ‘soon’. Act on what she said, because he would have been too mild-mannered about the whole thing, but he fumbles for the last word by flexing that it must be soon. Big man, much decree. She finds this iteration of Macon wholly unappetizing. “Of course. We can announce a speech to be delivered by you tomorrow morning. And perhaps we should offer the family money if they return to help them settle in and deal with any losses incurred.” Normally he would wing his speech or loosely sketch in advance what he will say, but she suddenly has no confidence that will be good enough. “Maybe I should help you write the speech in advance.”

Macon waves a hand dismissively when Josleen suggests paying the family to return, “Yes. Whatever they need.” That will be something for The Fort to deal with the logistics of, dipping into the seemingly limitless wealth of The Larketian Monarchy to compensate the family. Now that he has verbally signed off on it, it is likely that he will never hear of it again, gold amounts or otherwise. He nods at the rest of the plan; that he will give a speech tomorrow, but balks at the queen’s offer to write it with him. He blinks slate eyes and looks to her questioningly, “Why would you do tha’?”

Josleen hesitates as she considers how she should play this. Ultimately, her concern that Macon will blow this speech which his strange change in behavior wins out. She shrugs, turning her hands up like she’s just offering her services. “Like I said, you’re walking a fine line here. This is the most delicately worded speech you’ve ever given, and I have some skill with words. I’m am classically trained as a bard, after all.”

Macon should be thinking ‘skill with words!? I’m the guy that turned an entire kingdom against their golden hero with nothing but words and a box with a jar of goo in it! ‘You do not burn! You do not break! Hard Larketian Stone, etc?’ That was me!’ But he doesn’t think that right now. Instead he accepts the excuse that she offers, that this is perhaps his most delicate speech ever, (that can’t be true), and agrees that she will help him do something that he never would have done previously; pre write a speech to Larket, “Fine.”

Josleen looks at Macon critically when he agrees. Where has her husband gone, and who the hell is this pushover? Her simmering frustration bubbles over pure bile and b.s. “Or I can write the speech and give it to Commander Mythayus. Perhaps it can just come from the Fort and not the Crown. He’s a respected war hero and the guard won’t doubt whether or not he has their back, as he is one of them.” This advice is terrible, she knows it and doesn’t care, deploying it with the same earnest and helpful tone as before.

Macon raises a brow at this latest, obviously bad suggestion. She is testing him? Normally that suspicion would set him off more so than the actual terrible idea of having Mythayus deliver the speech instead of the king, but now he doesn’t so much as growl at the game she is playing with him. He just shakes his head again and shoots it down, “No. It should come from me. The guard should not doubt tha’ I am with them either.“ He sighs and looks behind him for whiskey, a glass, and ice mage intern-made ice cubes…

Josleen shrugs with false nonchalance. “Maybe they already do,” she says in a tone as if she’s relaying to him important information, rather than needling him. “I heard Cal [his trainer] expressed concern that you’re not sparring as much, haven’t been as aggressive in trainings. Maybe they think you think you’re above the fray now.” She didn’t hear anything of the sort. In truth, she watched his trainings and, perhaps because she was primed to find him lacking, found him lacking.

Macon drinks. Josleen is not allowed to right now, but he is, so he does. Then she goes there. ‘Maybe the guard does doubt you already.’ ‘Above the fray.’ It looks as if she is about to get what she wants based on the way he coldly stares at her and silently sets his quarter-full glass down on his desk, but then one of the fort staffers knocks and comes into the office. It has been several weeks since anyone at the fort has interrupted the king and queen being intimate, so the usual multi second pause and waiting period between knock and entrance has been all but forgotten. The Rage Knight’s next meeting has been waiting outside for at least a half hour already. For however flustered he had been, the king composes himself quickly and delivers the order “Show them in,” before looking back to Josleen, feigning a look of apology that he has to cut this short, “We will draf’ the speech later this evenin’.” That is her cue to leave.

Josleen smiles sweetly at the staffer. “Actually, could you ask them to wait just a little longer? I need to tell my husband one more thing, and it had slipped my mind.” The staffer looks to Macon, then back to Josleen, bows to both, leaves. Josleen turns back to Macon and can only stare at him blankly for a moment. She doesn’t have anything new to say, just a gnawing frustration to rail against, and impotent desire to shake him until something clicks back in place and he returns to normal. Her lips poise around the jagged edge of harsh words, but she thinks better of it. She doesn’t want to be mean, she still loves him, still wants to figure out what this is and fix it. Her cool expression yields to a frown and she rubs her brow and forehead as she tries to think of what to say. “We need to see Muzo. Something is just--” She holds her hands out before her as if holding onto the invisible ‘something’, whatever it is, and shakes it. “It’s hard to describe, but I just feel…” Unable to disclose her suspicion that this is the new normal, she aborts the sentence and rises abruptly. “I’ll see you later.” She sniffles and walks out.