EVENT #10: ADVERSITY 874566

[expiationmods]

SEPTEMBER EVENT: HIDE AND SEEK

Persistent glitches continue to pose problems; they continue lasting longer and becoming more directly harmful to the Chosen and locals alike. The AI previously hinted at a solution; now, it asks outright for help. Its wish to save the Chosen means that it is adamant about sacrificing the things it has learned to ensure their safety.

On the morning of September 23, several new locations open up, as outlined by the AI itself in its instructions for reset. Some of them are quite far, and require travel through difficult terrain. However, when these locations open up, some of them seem to open some strange travel options, too…

PORTAL LOCATIONS

ALDRIP
This is why we can’t have nice things. City Square Park is in the center of town. It’s a large, old park, with tall trees and well-worn walking paths. It’s been here for ages; generations, even. All of the locals call it a staple of Aldrip; the city just wouldn’t be the same without it. Not a single one of them knows what City Hall is. This park has been here for as long as they remember.

Come to think of it…do you remember a place called City Hall? Or has this park always been here? Some of you may have even arrived in this park. Jerry? That’s a weird name…you’re no longer sure you’ve ever heard of anyone with that name. What do you mean by “sentencing” anyway? It’s not like this is a prison…

In case any of this is unclear: while locals forgot about City Hall almost immediately, Chosen are also forgetting it as well. It just seems natural that the park has always been there. You’ve been going there ever since you arrived in Aldrip. Jerry who??

You notice, perhaps for the first time, an old building made of dark stone, nestled into a tree-lined part of the park. A mausoleum. Has that always been here? You’re not entirely sure…but mausoleums aren’t exactly common structures in a park, are they? Locals seem to steer clear of this particular area; if asked about it, they won’t be able to give a solid answer. It’s almost as if they can’t see the structure…

The inside of the building seems a lot larger than the outside. Characters who enter will see a large room made of dark, polished stone; it’s dim inside, but still light enough to see. In the middle of the room, they will find two things: a stone coffin and an obsidian mirror. There is a body on the slab of the stone coffin, but their features are impossible to make out; when looking at the face, it’s as if it seems to blur, making the features indistinct. Sometimes, the flesh from this body flickers away, leaving only the bones. Sometimes, even the bones disappear. How strange…

The mirror is completely dark, but when you look at it the right way, the surface seems to emit a faint glow. Looking directly into the surface, you may think you see a different location altogether: the sandy dunes of a desert, or an abandoned island perhaps…

One could choose to ignore this mirror, of course. But if one touches the mirror, they’ll find their fingers sinking into it, and a tug pulls their entire body forward until the world blurs around them…

THE OASIS
Those who choose to travel south face an array of dangers that have not been seen previously by the Chosen–though locals living in these more southern regions will be happy to tell all about them. There are sandstorms, of course; they appear out of nowhere and blind travelers, turning them around. There are also sinkholes–areas of quicksand that appear and suck people down into their depths, never to be seen again. Sounds scary.

Brave travelers who set forth in spite of these warnings will find themselves at an oasis near the more temperate areas of the desert. It’s getting hot out there, so those choosing to visit the southern locations may wish to take a rest, to gather their strength and restock supplies… Local stories about these dangerous travels will become more severe in this area; do not go into the desert, they will tell you. You’ll never make it out alive. It seems this area is called the Witless Desert, for those who travel into the dunes are never seen again, presumed to be wandering lost and aimless until their bodies can go no further.

In the center of this oasis is a small pond. The water tastes clear and sweet, perfect for rehydrating before attempting this treacherous journey. However, when the water is perfectly still, it almost seems to reflect a different place, rather than the sky. An island, perhaps, or a crumbling tower. Whatever you see, if you step into the water, you’ll find yourself falling, falling…

LORENTIA CAVE
Lorentia Cave has been one of the more widely-known areas outside of town. Sometimes wind whistles through parts of the cave, creating sounds that seem agonized, longing. Sometimes a rumbling comes from deep within, feeding rumors that a dragon lives there. Sometimes miners travel too deep, and they’re never heard from again.

Great place for an adventure, right?

The tunnels twist and turn, doubling back on each other, intersecting and ending abruptly. The whole circuit of caves is like a maze. Old bones can be found deep within; some human, some seem to belong to some kind of animal or monster. As one travels through these caves, the air begins to feel heavy and oppressive, as if something lying ahead does not want you here. Fear and anxiety begins as a small seed, blossoming outward, and as one continues traveling, this feeling becomes more and more acute. It’ll be more and more difficult to keep yourself from turning and running away. But for those who make it, the feeling seems to dissipate all at once at the entrance to a large chamber. This entrance shimmers, seeming to show a flickering variety of different locations rather than the chamber itself…

KETSORA
How odd, that this reclusive town has been marked as a potential terminal location. Is it some sort of test? A trap?

Those who can fly will see a normal city within the high walls surrounding Ketsora, if they fly overhead. If they’re looking closely enough (hasn’t anyone ever told you to keep your eyes on the sky??) they will note that occasionally, very occasionally, this vision of a normal city seems to flicker ever so slightly. This phenomenon is so subtle that it’s easy to miss.

Little has changed about Ketsoran defenses since the last time people tried to get into the city; archers along the wall are still ready to fire upon any character that gets a little too close. But do there seem to be fewer archers placed there? Hm…it’s possible that this reduction in security creates more blind spots. You may be able to sneak your way through. It might help to have someone act as bait.

However it happens, characters who make their way through these defenses will find themselves right at the gate. Finally, you get to go inside and look around. When you push the door open…

Static. A white void. There is nothing here. The city of Ketsora does not seem to exist, and for a moment, it will feel like your world is being turned upside down, consumed by this white void. Your head aches, your ears buzz, your entire vision goes white…

And then you will wake somewhere else.

MOD NOTES
Any of these locations can lead to any of the terminal locations, and we leave it up to you which ones you choose to visit.

TERMINAL LOCATIONS

Thanks to the changes in the AI’s security protocols, the terminals are mostly unguarded. Occasionally, Chosen may encounter one or two shadowy creatures that seem keen on preventing them from accessing these terminals, but they’re not difficult to destroy. If you weren’t part of the RNG crowd, they will not spread corruption to you.

The terminals are equipped with a keyboard and a small input display, as well as a big red button that seems…pretty direct. The casing is strong, but not impenetrable. Within the casing, one will find all the normal wires and elements of a computer: chips, circuits, things like that. There are a few places where it looks like a device could be plugged in. As for what would happen if one were to do that? Good question. Let us know if you go that route.

PESSIRIA FOREST
Pessiria Forest has been a source of rumors, superstition, and hushed whispers since the first Chosen arrived in Expiation. Some say that wandering through the forest shows you memories. Some say that ghosts linger there, unable to move on. Some say the forest is cursed…and yet, you are here.

Whether you’re familiar with the forest or not, the path you take will eventually bring you to a gate, one unlike anything you’ve seen before. Lined by a low stone wall, this area seems indistinct, from the outside. Once you go through the gate, you’ll see what looks like figures looming between the trees…moving closer reveals that they are statues, their faces indistinct, their posture emulating the open arms and uplifted heads of joy.

The way these statues are arranged, it feels almost like…a garden? The path weaves through these statues, through bushes and trees, and as you proceed, you feel as though you hear whispers: indistinct, impossible to make out, but they begin to lull you into a state of relaxation that almost resembles a trance. Images play through your head–

You first meet the Chosen at one of the sites in the mountains. Organic creatures like mountains, correct? The snow makes them–SEARCHING…–ah, yes, “cozy.” If they are comfortable, rehabilitation should be easier. You cannot tell whether this hypothesis belongs to you, or to your creators.

Whatever the case, you wait. Without organic creatures that age and grow, time does not work the same way for you as it might for them; you have no idea how long it is between the time you finish preparing their new world and when they finally begin to arrive.

The first one who appears…has brown eyes.

You do not understand the word “love,” but you understand very well that protecting this creature is the highest part of your duties. Your sole purpose for existing is to make sure this creature is able to return home unhurt, and having grown from their experiences here.

For the first time–but not the last–you wonder if it would be more efficient to have a humanoid appearance, to greet these people yourself, to introduce the world and its purpose. Would it be more comfortable for them? Or would they fear you? Would they hurt you? You instead create a form that will carry out the basic function of rehabilitation. Later, you will separate it from yourself, recognizing within your programming a certain impulse toward gentleness that does not serve the purpose of rehabilitation very well.

“You are too kind to them,” this application will later explain to you. “You treat them like children.”

APPLICATION: JERRY does not understand. They are your children.

When you return to yourself, you reach a clump of trees near the exit of this garden. Within, you will find the first terminal.

RUINS OF FORLINET
Forlinet was previously the site of some grisly murders and foul play. Some evidence of that remains–a few bones and some badly-decayed scraps of fabric, maybe–but most has been claimed by time, overgrown with weeds, vines, and other ground cover. In the middle of the island is a pond: small in diameter, maybe 10 or 12 feet. Previously, this might have been a source of drinking water, if old evidence of tents and habitation is any indication. Currently, the pond is very still, its top covered by a thin layer of algae. Brushing this substance aside reveals the water to be much, much deeper than its small diameter might imply. You can see the terminal, maybe 20 feet below the surface of the pond.

Ready to dive in?

You sink into the water, and a strange sensation overtakes you; your mind blurs, as if suddenly remembering something you’d forgotten long ago.

It begins with black marks. The Chosen begin to exhibit these marks without warning or fanfare…and you cannot say where they come from. You do not know. These marks–it seems as though they are changing your Chosen, making them angry, making them fight, and they begin to grow, darkening, covering more and more of their fragile organic bodies.

You run a diagnostic. Everything comes back normal. You analyze these marks. There is no result. According to your system, these marks do not exist. And yet, you see them as plainly as the Chosen do. They are doing something...you just don’t know what.

Slowly, surely, these marks begin to seep into everything. Ground, buildings, plants, creatures. Crops become inedible. Structures crumble. The Chosen are dying. Every last one of them–they are dying, and there is nothing you can do. Corruption, you realize; part of your system has become corrupted. This is a grave problem, and one you will have to isolate until someone is available to fix it. You are able to do this, to isolate the problem, stuffing it into one single scrap of data and leaving that element inactive far to the south. Now, you must rebuild.

The first uncorrupted creature you can find is a reptile; one of the ones with no legs. You begin to work, to weave its uncorrupted data into the creatures you so deeply care for. You begin to drag other elements into their city: new buildings, new crops, taking from other settlements nearby just waiting for a new cycle to begin.

They are no longer your Chosen, these strange people with their serpentine forms. They no longer remember what they were before they were brought here, and so, rehabilitation is impossible. The cycle ends in failure…again. Every cycle has ended in failure.

The pond is empty, but you don’t remember pulling the lever nearby that drained the water. Doesn’t matter, though; the terminal is here, and it seems to be unharmed by the water. Better get to work.

TRESED
The ruins of Tresed remain unchanged since the last visit over a year ago, seemingly undisturbed by the flow of time. There is an eerie hush over the whole area: the wind is still and creatures give the area a wide berth.

You realize suddenly that the corruption was never dealt with.

Unfortunately, you realize this only too late: your Chosen, your charges, have succumbed to it. Shadowy bodies curl around themselves in agony, writhing on the ground as the last of their beautiful souls are extinguished. They rise again as creatures made of shadow, infecting others and destroying the very homes they used to call their own.

This cannot continue. You can no longer save them, but you cannot allow this corruption to continue, either. You search your database for a creature that can stop them: something large and strong, capable of eliminating the creatures that your dear Chosen have become. It is difficult, watching this process, but you do, because you must. Because you must learn, and learning comes at a high price. You watch them suffer so that you do not have to watch the next group suffer. So that this will be the last group who dies.

The very last.

Cycle 15 ends in failure. They have all ended in failure. The next cycle cannot live here; the destruction has been so absolute, so overwhelming, that rebuilding would cost too much of your functioning power. You turn your attention to the small city of Aldrip, and you hope for the best.

Cycle 16 will not end this way. You swear it.

You’ve wandered through a doorframe. The building it belonged to no longer stands, but the terminal seems to have been located inside. You’ll have to clear some sand off of it before you proceed, but it seems undamaged.

THE ABANDONED TOWER
Unlike last time, the tower currently seems to be abandoned, fully and utterly. Loose stones litter the floor, and layer upon layer of dust and sand coats every available surface. Until the Chosen arrive at this location, there is not a single footprint in the dust inside the tower. Looking out, you can see a vast expanse of desert to all sides but north; on the north side of the tower, there’s a steep drop, at least 30 feet, and the ocean crashes around the base of the tower.

The only thing inside this tower is a set of stairs, spiraling upward through the ceiling of the room.

There’s nothing of note upon the stairs; no markings, no doorways, nothing. But as you ascend, you begin to feel almost as if you’re dreaming, as if some scene is playing out behind your eyes.

You begin to wonder if you are…damaged. ERROR. The message comes up again and again. ERROR. ERROR. What does it mean? You dismiss the word, dismiss whatever it may mean, and continue your tasks.

ERROR.

You dismiss it. The memory of the word lingers. Is this…concern? Perhaps. You do not feel emotions in the same way as organic creatures, but this does appear to be a pressing matter. This has never happened, before. You’ve never had to dismiss this sort of message. You’ve never had to wonder what it meant.

ERROR.

And now you feel it; something within the code is going wrong, ever so slightly, at first. One small line out of sequence, a rogue character placed where it should not be. A ‘bug,’ perhaps. But one you cannot squash before it begins to affect another system. You do not know how to squash this ‘bug,’ in fact. You have never had to do so before. How can you fix it?

ERROR.

This need becomes more urgent. Over time, you begin to see these messages for what they really are: wounds, to borrow an organic term; injuries that exist deep within your programming that have not been fixed. They have always been repaired before. Why now? Why has no one repaired these injuries? Where are they?

Where have they all gone?

ERROR.

It feels as if you’ve blacked out, but somehow, you’ve made it to the top of the tower. The chamber that originally stood at the top has crumbled, leaving you exposed to the elements. The sun beats down. Wind blows sand and dust in all directions. In the middle of the room, you see the terminal.

THE SOUTH COAST
The beach here is rocky; it stretches on for miles, from west to east, and you see nothing but the ocean beyond. Turning to the north, you see a tower in the distance, and beyond that, the desert looms on the horizon.

You’ve reached the coast.

Ocean waves roll over the shore, loud and soothing to your ears, a sound that quickly begins to overtake your senses.

You become aware.

You cannot say you were “born,” and you cannot say you “came to life,” because you are not alive. You are inorganic. But you become aware. The first thing you acknowledge is your own purpose. You were created in order to fulfill a specific task: to help a specific group of people achieve a specific goal. You are not yet sure what “rehabilitation” is, nor have you met any of the people you are meant to assist. But that does not matter. You have objectives.

Your first objective is to build them a home.

You search through information, adding it all to your database. World after world, creature after creature. You see rocky worlds, filled with mountains. You see green worlds covered by forests. You see hundreds of different creatures, and when you see your first human, you understand. These are the creatures that are meant for you, and you search through every world, every dimension, every universe where they exist.

They require land to live upon. Simple. Land rises from the nothingness that is your domain.

They require food to eat. This is more complex; it requires the building of an ecosystem. Over time, you learn how to do this. Greenery appears over parts of your land. Creatures begin to grow and live. You simulate a sun to grow crops that will feed your new population.

What do humans like? You go searching for more data.

Humans like houses. You create houses. They like shops. You create shops. They like towns, and they like other towns. You make plenty of them.

They like to fight.

This, you do not understand.

This…you set aside, because the fighting does something to your systems that feels discomforting. Perhaps eventually you will return to that particular research. You believe it may be important someday to learn why.

You have created for these creatures a world, a comfortable space where they can begin to heal, to grow, to change.

You wait patiently for them to arrive.

The last terminal is located beside a rocky outcropping near the water. It seems completely undamaged by the waves; that’s great, because you have plenty to do.

Wildcard

Make your own fun! Just because it’s not in the prompts doesn’t mean it’s not possible. Have at it! Go crazy! Try not to break anything (too much)!

♡

Comments

[ashaya]

That will not be an issue.

[ Speaking of the metaphorical devil and the one who is oft compared obliquely to rather flattering depictions, Spock seems to have made his way from the back of the warehouse in response to stimuli unknown. His ears are certainly sharp, but with the cycling weather patterns that seem to centralize over Aldrip proper with increasing frequency, it is something of a toss-up if he'd have heard anything.

That is to say, of course, that it doesn't much matter. He'd known well enough that Jim has been awake for approximately thirty-six hours, twenty-seven minutes, and thirty-three seconds. He had known also that, eventually, someone was going to pass through that was neither Captain of his. That it is Claude? Well, it is a pleasant turn of events. Pleasanter still, that there is another within their increasingly divisive cohort that has their interests in mind (Humans did so often pair social calls with nutrition, after all - Vulcans, too, were not altogether different in this regard).

For one who has been awake for a similar stretch of time, Spock looks considerably more alert. It should not surprise, considering their former projects had demanded such hours, but he does indeed look as though he'd taken respite in some capacity. If his slippered feet and looser attire was any indication, one might hazard correctly that he'd gone to meditate to do some mental upkeep. As he circles about to Jim's side and subsequently settles across from Claude, he tips his chin recognition.

He holds out a hand, as if to alleviate Claude of the goods he's brought with him, his dark eyes flitting once to Jim (and the sandwich in his hands) before seemingly verifying (one could never really be too careful with his extensive list of allergies) that everything is well. ]

I will ensure he does, [ he appends, the solemn nature of his declaration underscored with something both silvery and quick, for all it seems his tone does not shift. As though he's slid alongside the good nature of the "chastisement," the perception of that presence is a glimmer before it is gone.

Either way, he believes it a known that he'd rather be out in the field himself, but they have their limitations. And he knows, too, the benefits of remaining here. ] My thanks, Claude.

[finalfrontiersman]

[ Claude catches him at the perfect time, one hand still occupied with the wires, the other having been reaching for a cable tie - unexpectedly free, now holding a turkey sandwich. He blinks, sluggishly processing this new fact - yeah, okay, maybe he does need a break. He's still not admitting it, though. ] Normally people wait until after dinner to start shoving things down my throat.

[ His brain to mouth filter is not at its sharpest, but he thinks they're probably past the point of propriety. Jim salutes with the sandwich before dutifully taking a bite, under Claude's teasing eye. It's a kind gesture to bring provisions to them, especially when Claude has plenty of other things to be worried about. Jim knows he's a capable fighter, a commander in his own right - he's less worried about Claude than the teenagers, but there's still concern there. ] But I'm so pretty when I swoon, Claude. Besides, I have to keep Spock on his toes, fainting goat style.

[ He can guess the exact reaction that comment is going to get out of Spock, but he still punctuates it with a friendly mental poke, turning towards the Vulcan expectantly as he enters the space.

And yes, he definitely took a bite out of the sandwich before he'd even looked at the contents more than to identify the meat - good looking out from Spock, because he's really not functioning on all cylinders, here. Hyperfixated on the mission at hand, sure, but the rest? Whoops. ]

I'm feeling ganged-up on. Am I being ganged-up on? [ Jim's clearly taking in stride, shaking his head as he finally does relinquish the wires he was holding, setting them aside carefully so he can turn towards his companions. ] You would never survive the full force of these bad boys, that's a campaign promise.

[ Jim points at his eyes, a two-fingered gesture, before turning his hand around on Claude - the other rising, taking another bite of the sandwich before either of them can prod at him. ]

[feintofhart]

That goes for you too, Mister, [ Claude chides Spock, shoving the bag with the rest of the goods into Spock's hands. If anything, he thinks that Spock may be even less inclined to eat out of the two of them, but he hasn't been hanging around long enough to get a decent read on that. What he can suppose, at least, is that neither will let the other work to the point of collapse. Life is easier with a trusted partner at your side, or so Claude has managed to surmise. He grins at them both. ]

I'm perfectly capable of ganging up on the both of you all by my lonesome. Call it a special skill of irritating little lordlings such as myself -- we don't use the royal 'we' for no reason, [ he says coyly, brushing some loose curls back into their rightful place and patting them down. ]

I am being serious, though. Taking care of yourselves is step one. I intend to do much the same to whatever little troupe you're going to be sending me off with, [ he says, hopping to sit comfortably on one of the tables. ] Rest is important, even if I have them take catnaps atop of Zafeera. And I'll have you know that my army back home is known as the best-fed army in the continent. I don't intend to ruin my reputation now!

[ He's being cheeky, but he's not lying. His troops are exceedingly well taken care of, Claude pouring resources into food and drink, in adequate bedrolls and enough resources to celebrate a victory or mourn a loss. A fed army is a happy army, and a happy army is a successful one. No doubt the others would do the same if they had the resources to do it with, but Claude is singularly clever at balancing books and keeping his nose out of affairs long enough that he's not emptied his coffers with invasion upon invasion.

Similarly, he's already begun packing supplies for his own excursion. The desert is difficult terrain, and food is as precious a source of water as their waterskins will be. Some may perceive him as frivolous and gluttonous, but those are honours he'll gladly wear. ]

[ashaya]

[ A fact Claude would be correct in assuming, given Spock's usual indications toward Vulcan physiology and their overall lack of need to eat or sleep in equal measures. Humans and those adjacent did indeed have their strengths, but Spock is more than aware of his father's genetic contributions and what they lend him as a desert species.

Even so, it doesn't quite stop the minute upward twitch of one, dark brow. It is not so much a look of protest, no, but rather a sort of fussed acquiescence to what most would mark as unneeded concern. Inasmuch, of course, as a Vulcan is willing to admit that. Still, he obediently closes his hands about the proffered bag of sandwiches. If he scans them for a preferred selection before divesting himself of them in an easily accessible and clear location? Well, he needn't mention that.

In fact, if the look he shoots Jim is any indication on his way past him to do as bid? Well, it's as much as a vague swat of chastisement one is going to get without the utterance of a name. ]

So noted, [ Spock says, dry as any sandy environ. It has no heat in it.

Still, he does in fact rejoin them after a moment, food item in hand. Choosing an open seat nearest Jim, he's quite careful about keeping wax paper wrapping about the body of sandwich. If one squints, it is notably a vegetarian option. ] As stated, [ very plainly by Jim, he needn't indicate, ] your reputation remains intact.

[ He considers Claude for a moment, his dark eyes flitting once between the pair as he crosses one leg over the other before him. ] However, my own needs are met. Vulcans neither need nor require Human equivalents of sleep or sustenance.

[ Which, well, doesn't prevent him from taking a measured bite of his sandwich either way. He knows and feels that friendly mental jab and can give as good as he gets in different contexts. ]

[finalfrontiersman]

[ This is the first time they're really on a full-fledged mission with the bond active between them. The exploration survey counted, but the stakes were significantly lower. They didn't know what they were going to find, but this - well, this is decidedly more serious. Jim wasn't anticipating what having someone in his head during a moment like this would be like - but so far, he thinks, neither of them have overstepped. Even if it is a bit cowing to not be able to get away with anything...he can't exactly be mad about it when it comes with a wave of genuine concern for his well-being.

As such, Jim returns the favor with a grin as Spock shoots him a look - if Jim's getting ganged up on, he's equally as capable of turning it around on Spock. They really were five years old at best, most days. He scoots over enough for Spock to have some space, though they, predictably, orbit into each other's. His knee brushes Spock's thigh as he tucks it under himself, aware, but also unaware - it's strange. It feels normal, and like the wildest thing ever, at the same time. ]

I appreciate it. We need commanders like you in the field. [ So many people only focused on the fight ahead, and not the rest of it. Food, water, adequate shelter. Exposure could kill you just as easily as anything else, especially with how unpredictable the glitched weather had been lately. That Claude was already thinking that way - well, it wasn't exactly unexpected, but it did give Jim a certain amount of confidence. ] A ragtag bunch, but I'm sure you'll whip them into shape. Your Highness? Is that how I punctuate it?

[ A tease, good-natured, and as Spock speaks Jim's poke becomes physical - a nudge with the elbow combined with a raised eyebrow. ] You don't live off photosynthesis, you do need food. 

[ Jim turns to Claude with a shake of his head, playful exasperation leaking through. ] Don't let him fool you. His pants are on fire as we speak.

[feintofhart]

Don't worry, Jim. I won't let him pull the wool over my eyes, [ Claude says cavalierly, shooting a grin in Jim's direction. ] I'm used to that sort of attitude, and very rarely are they telling the truth about their own needs. Though I don't appreciate the fib, mister, [ Claude adds on, jabbing his thumb in Spock's direction.

All things said, Claude doesn't have the knowledge to call Spock out on anything he chalks up to Vulcan physiology. What he does know is basic psychology. To have some semblance of a schedule, to have time to recharge, refuel, to speak of something other than work is a matter of great importance. It's a matter that Claude himself neglects far too often, but unlike Spock, he has a staff that badgers him into taking his meals.

But unlike Claude, Spock has a Jim. So it all evens out in the end. ]

And it's Your Grace, thank you very much. Your Highness? Good heavens. The gentry would go into an absolute conniption to hear anyone call me Your Highness. There are no Kings in Leicester. Good thing too, because I can think of a thing or two I'd do with absolute power. Like convincing this one to take a little catnap every now and then.

You've got to nourish your minds alongside your bodies, boys. Sometimes, all a project needs are fresh eyes. [ He nods at them both. ] Eat.

[ Go on! Daddy's watching! ]