The old scholar had told me things would be different on this realm... but this situation had never come to mind. The escalating scene I’d interrupted was something that was rarely even found on the lowest gutters of Winteroak Hold, but here it was, occurring in the publicity of this high dining hall. And I blushed to think that it was our own Queen involved.
I patted down the last of the heat on my black leather armour before striding over to the stunned group, slipping my sword out of its sheath, and resting it on the neck of the closest, brutish boy. Crouching down so that we were eye to eye, I said to him:
“If you ever even think of what happened today, let alone repeat it, I will slice you from stem-” I slid the blade down into his crotch, “all the way up to sternum.” I flicked the blade up to his chest, and grinned my most charming smile into his sweating, nervous face.
Wasting no more time, I turned on my heel, and started running lightly after the lost Princess. Ignoring the crowds and their shouts of indignation as I pushed my way through them it didn’t take me long before she was back in my sights.
Something held me back from just directly approaching her, a little instinct in my head told me that another direct approach would just result in another direct dismissal.
The crowds dispersed, and I followed her as discretely as possible, across a park, over a bridge, between two households squeezed too closely together. Until eventually we came to a suburban street, as I tried not to let the strangeness of this world overwhelm me she slipped through an open door of one of the houses.
Running quickly over the hot tar of the road, vaulting a small fence, and a few steps across grass and a whitey-grey stone, I followed her into the house; nearly knocking her over in the process. She was standing stock still in the doorway, as two naked figures rolled around on the floor infront of her. I don’t think either of them even noticed we were there.
I was still taken up in the sight of the lovers, a sheltered castle life left little room for the intimacies of man and wife, when I felt her hand like a vice wrap around my wrist dragging me back out onto the street.
“What do you want with me?” she nearly screamed at me, beating her fists against my leather-clad chest. Black lines were running out from under her eyes, and I tried not to let my concern distract me from her question.
“We cannot discuss it here. Please, do you have a place we can talk? You will want to hear this.”
She was still sobbing, “Do I even get to know your name?”
“Keth,” I answered, “Keth Talloak, at your service.”