[The king's chambers are large, as one might expect. There's a fireplace burning, its light illuminating the chambers as well as the flickering flames of the numerous candles around the room. In the center of the room is his bed, soft and fluffy and decidedly unsolitary. Judging by the appearance of things, the king didn't last sleep alone — the pillows look slept on, and the sheets are messy.
The king himself — his true name is Christophe, but the cityfolk never call him anything but The King, capital T, capital K — is in the corner of the room furthest from the door. His dress is quite exquisite, intricate patterns on luxury fabrics in red and gold. He's shorter than one might expect from a king, but what he lacks in stature he makes up for in demeanor. The moment he hears the door close, turns, and his eyes lock on Kida's entering form, he draws his blade.
His sword is kept in a sheath at his side, but it looks shiny and unused. He holds it out in front of him, pointing it in the direction of the women.]
Guards!
[A futile endeavor, but he calls for them nonetheless.]
no subject
The king himself — his true name is Christophe, but the cityfolk never call him anything but The King, capital T, capital K — is in the corner of the room furthest from the door. His dress is quite exquisite, intricate patterns on luxury fabrics in red and gold. He's shorter than one might expect from a king, but what he lacks in stature he makes up for in demeanor. The moment he hears the door close, turns, and his eyes lock on Kida's entering form, he draws his blade.
His sword is kept in a sheath at his side, but it looks shiny and unused. He holds it out in front of him, pointing it in the direction of the women.]
Guards!
[A futile endeavor, but he calls for them nonetheless.]