The Altean prince hadn't exactly woke well, but what else could have been expected when your last memory was a battle? He'd slept, he knew that. He'd tossed, turned, and resisted sleep - though it had done him no good. He'd slept. And he'd slept a long time. A gentle knocking at the door and the smell of something sweet (a far cry from the burning castle he'd left) had him awake with a start and a cry, a hand finding it's way to the hilt of his rapier - and an apology when he'd realized he'd likely startled whoever had come.
He had little time to actually notice the offerings- instead he'd been ushered by an aide into the main hall, and given something. And he'd opened it, of course he'd opened it - standing by a pillar in order to read. His mind swam. He was... He'd remembered an assassination attempt. What had happened to his guard? Five, ten, perhaps twenty minutes of looking throughout the hall at all of the other people here before his heart felt like it was sinking.
His allies were not here.
The shame of it was crippling. Even if unintentional, even if leaving Altea's throne suddenly, into another world improbable, unfeasible, unbelievable, they still fought there. They still fought with their lives- Had he truly been spirited away, in the middle of a battle for his life, away from others which were bleeding for him?
This couldn't be happening. But it had. He was here. And this... this was not some manner of public execution. His guard hadn't failed. He'd blacked out, yes... but executions simply weren't done in this way.
Silently, he swallowed, the sound of his dry throat foreign, strange. And he started to read what had been given to him over again. Then he walked around the hall. Finally, he came upon the desk, and a man -- perhaps his age -- suddenly sitting up straight. Ah, perhaps...
His tone only slightly shook. He was a prince through and through - and his tone would never show uncertainty. Though perhaps his eyes did the showing, in that regard.
"Forgive me, sir. I fear I do not understand what was stated in this missive - of particular the mention of a network. If you might explain..."
no subject
He had little time to actually notice the offerings- instead he'd been ushered by an aide into the main hall, and given something. And he'd opened it, of course he'd opened it - standing by a pillar in order to read. His mind swam. He was... He'd remembered an assassination attempt. What had happened to his guard? Five, ten, perhaps twenty minutes of looking throughout the hall at all of the other people here before his heart felt like it was sinking.
His allies were not here.
The shame of it was crippling. Even if unintentional, even if leaving Altea's throne suddenly, into another world improbable, unfeasible, unbelievable, they still fought there. They still fought with their lives- Had he truly been spirited away, in the middle of a battle for his life, away from others which were bleeding for him?
This couldn't be happening.
But it had. He was here. And this... this was not some manner of public execution. His guard hadn't failed. He'd blacked out, yes... but executions simply weren't done in this way.
Silently, he swallowed, the sound of his dry throat foreign, strange. And he started to read what had been given to him over again. Then he walked around the hall. Finally, he came upon the desk, and a man -- perhaps his age -- suddenly sitting up straight. Ah, perhaps...
His tone only slightly shook. He was a prince through and through - and his tone would never show uncertainty. Though perhaps his eyes did the showing, in that regard.
"Forgive me, sir. I fear I do not understand what was stated in this missive - of particular the mention of a network. If you might explain..."