It was a busy night in the Everlasting Mug, the best pub in the worst part of town. The tables were full; the light was low, and the performance passable but not quite capturing the audience's attention. Lyla, the nervous but talented singer performed that night for the first time, singing her own work about the mischievous and irresponsible prince, Mata Pyles.
"He's sneaky and troublesome, in love with the women, and in love with the thrills! He's quick to make a scene, and twice as quick to leave! Oh what a pity, Oh what a pity, can no one control the man ruining this city!" she sang passionately, her eyes darting between the various tables to try to gauge how well she was doing. She could tell it wasn't going well based on how everyone was sticking to their own conversations or various forms of gambling. All except that one man sitting at the bar, seemingly switching between eavesdropping at the table nearest to him and listening to her.
"Did you hear what Prince Mata got up to this time? During the 1st Princesses birthday procession last week, that blue dye bomb that went off in her palanquin? His Majesty recently declared the Prince has been chosen as the member of royalty to visit our allies as a diplomat. Aye, you can just put two and two together. I'm sure they'd just come out and say it was him if they didn't make such a big show of catching the criminal insulting the royalty of Pyles. He made them chase their own tails just like usual!" the table laughed in response, agreeing and tuning in with their own anecdotes of the prince's troublemaking.
"Remember when he somehow put the 1st Prince's bed on the main road without waking him?"
"That's nothing, what about when he snuck in those little men into the 2nd Princesses 7th birthday? She was laughs and smiles until they stripped and dove into the party refreshments I hear!"
"You think that'd be what they send him out of the country for," cut in a man at the bar, seemingly listening to their conversation the whole time. "But no, one little blue dye bomb during Elaina's birthday procession, and I-I mean he gets sent away like yesterday's laundry! Is there no justice? No love?!" the man gets louder and more animated as he speaks, eventually standing on his stool as he swings his mug, spilling his drink. The performance stops, and the room becomes quiet and still.
"Did that man just call the 1st Princess by her name? What, does he think they're friends or something?" whispers one of the patrons.
"I think he said he was getting sent away like he's the prince or something.." another murmurs.
"What kind of person does the laundry every day.." another muttered.
The man coughs loudly. "What happened to that wonderful song I was hearing?!" he yells. He threw a bag onto the bar, the easily recognized clink of coins ringing out. "Barkeep! A drink for everyone! And you!" he points at the singer, Lyla. "Let me hear that song again from the top! But this time, instead of 'he's in love with the women' say 'the women are in love with him'!" he said. The entire pub cheered, and Lyla sang it again over and over that night, 13 times in total before the place closed. The man just kept asking for it to be sung again and again.
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"Mm.. you go be a diplomat if it's such a important role Dad." Mata mumbled to himself on his way out of the less reputable part of town, having stayed at the Everlasting Mug until closing. He slogged and stumbled through the dark and almost empty streets while muttering to himself about how unfair life was, and how he didn't deserve this treatment. In reality, the King and Queen had obviously been light on him, and only gave him the role of diplomat to try and help him grow and mature by letting him see the wider world. But he couldn't see that, or rather, chose not to see their intentions but the way they showed them, coldly sending a servant to his quarters earlier in the day to send him the message informing him of his new responsibility.
Mata didn't like that. Ironic he wouldn't, considering most of the time when he causes a problem he always waits until it's getting too big or he's already caught red-handed to fess up. That's what happened this last time with Elaina's birthday reception and her poorly thought up plan to close the borders and do a full sweep and interrogation regarding every citizen's whereabouts on the day of her birthday and the three days prior to catch the criminal responsible. Mata had no choice at that point but to fess up at that nights dinner before things got out of hand. He shortly afterward had to dodge Elaina's plate before it finished it's flight through the air and crashed into his face. An extreme overreaction in his eyes. It took his father holding her down to stop her from rushing at him, and his mother to placate her by promising that she would do something about his attitude and troublemaking behavior.
'This is ridiculous.' he thought to himself as he walked up to a clothing shop with it's sign displaying that it was closed for the night before knocking 3 times, pausing, and knocking one final time. 'All of the things I've done up to this point, and one little dye bomb gets me sent out of the country. I've literally put pins in Father's throne cushion before the yearly noble's gala. He dropped himself onto his chair the same way he always does and barely flinched! I don't even think he removed the pins..' The door opened and interrupted his thoughts. Mata made sure to keep his face covered, act as sober as possible, and reminded himself not to slip up and refer to himself as the prince or talk about royals like he knew them this time. An eye-catchingly tall, well-dressed man with a scar on his jaw and a build that has no business on a man selling clothing in a shop led him to the backroom of the establishment, where two figures sat at a table with one singular candle stood to barely alight the room. They all looked rough, the type you would avoid late at night on a dark street.
"Remind me again Lark, what job could possibly be high paying enough to have us all meet at this ungodly hour." one of them said.
"A job worth 10,000 pylet upfront, Daisy." Lark responded tersely. Mata couldn't help but laugh. He quickly covered it up with a sudden coughing fit. 'Daisy? What a feminine name for such a huge vagrant.' Mata looked at the one named Gabi again, trying to discern their features in the dark light.
"You heard him right boy! My name is Daisy! Or maybe it isn't! What idiot would use his real name in a meeting like this!" Daisy said in response to Mata's discerning look.
Mata coughed, and purposely tried to make his voice sound deeper than usual. "My friend Lark here is right. The job is high paying, and that's only the upfront payment. I need someone kidnapped. I won't be telling you who specifically, because you don't need to know, and I don't feel like telling." Mata stood tall, his hands clasped behind his back as he tried to radiate a imposing and threatening air.
"What a joke. He won't tell us who he wants us to nab? I'm out. This job reeks of an early grave to me." A high pitched, feminine voice rang out.
"Oh really? Even if you'll be paid 50,000 pylet upon delivery?" Mata remarked, trying his best to be intimidating, even resorting to standing on the tips of his toes, hoping his slight imbalance would be lost in the low light. "There's no reward without risk after all. I wouldn't expect people in your line of work to be so cowardly!" he said, raising his voice slightly at the end.
Daisy and the feminine speaker immediately stood up at his remark, seemingly brandishing weapons quick enough that Lark had no time to say a word before they were out. Daisy quickly threw a knife through the air, and the feminine speaker leaped over the table towards Mata. By now, Lark had enough time to react. He stepped in front of Mata, and snagged the knife out of the air and grabbed it by the handle. He grabbed the feminine speaker by the neck before her feet even hit the ground on the other side of the table and pushed her backwards into it.
"Daisy, Tough, calm down. No one dies in my shop. You know the rules around here. I connect you to customers, you give me a cut if you take the job or you leave if you don't. No one gets injured while meeting, and everyone goes home the way they came. Why do you think I can offer such high paying jobs every so often. Don't make me show you why people who can afford to pay trust me with their safety so much." Lark said coldly.
Mata coughed hysterically while trying to stop himself from laughing at the reveal of the woman's name. 'Daisy and Tough! Lark should go by Shorty! Why do their alias's sound like the name of a clown act!' Mata cleared his throat before he spoke. "Ahem. The target will be leaving via Sky Spirit summoning at the city travel center by 10:00 am tomorrow, his destination the neighboring kingdom Alafula." Mata threw a document onto the table. "I've arranged for your own transportation leaving at the same time. This is the route he'll be taking. I need you to take him from his entourage during flight without injuring anyone, discreetly bring him to the capital, and deposit him at the location listed in the document. There will be no further correspondence between us after tonight. If any problems arise during the mission, refer to the document's contingencies. 10,000 pylet upfront, and another 50,000 when you successfully deposit him." Mata threw a wad of paper bills onto the table, and turned around to leave.
"Know that if this is a set-up, we'll have both of your heads before the kingdom ever gets ours!" Mata heard Tough say before he closed the door to the backroom, and left through the clothing shop onto the street. He put away the pretense of being sober, and began to slog and stumble through the street just as he had before arriving at the clothing shop. This time though, instead of muttering about how unfair and cruel his parents were being, he snickered to himself and had a grin on his face so wide it looked like a sideways crescent moon. 'Send me out of the country will you? I've got one last good surprise for you before I go, Mother, Father, and my oh so beautiful brother and sisters!' He laughed out loud unable to hold in his excitement as he walked down the street before someone slammed open their window shutters and yelled at him to quiet down and that it was the middle of the night.
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The King Aramet Pyles was a serious man in the eyes of his people. He rarely made jokes in any of his speeches, and his attitude towards any kind of threat to his rule and people was dealt with quickly and ruthlessly. His decrees and judgements regarding law were strict and unforgiving. A first offense could be punished lightly, but you should know that a second would result in strong regret. He sat in his bedchamber, at a chair with his arm rested on his desk, his hands covering his face and his crown sitting infront of him. The Queen sat on their bed, reading a new work written about the philosophy and psychology of difficulties in parenting.
"That book's author hasn't met anyone like Mata, dear Velet. We won't find any answers in writing for him." Aramet sadly grumbled into his hands. He was truly lost on what to do with their second son, and strongly disagreed with their idea to make him a diplomat.
"You overreact my Husband. I've seen him remorseful and filled with regret on many occasions. He's learned to at least restrict his activities to his siblings." Velet responded. Aramet grumbled in response to that. He knew Mata could put on a great act when he had to. Not to mention the fact that no one else knew that the only person safe from his pranks was his mother, for reasons only he and she herself knew. She only assumed he decided to show mercy to his father. It was only a couple months ago he had to maintain a straight face with a cushion full of needles poking his rear end at his slightest movement.
"Velet. You have to know that this position we've put him in isn't a game. He'll be in foreign countries, out of our own supervision. Some of the places he'll be visiting are less our allies, and more reluctant and cautious enemies. They won't attempt anything, but it won't be entirely pleasant." Aramet said. He took one hand away from his face reached onto his desk where his crown sat. He thumbed the jewels in metalwork as he sat in thought. "If only he took at least his combat classes seriously. I'd feel much less hesitant if he'd reached some level of competence in some form of combat. Hell, I'd settle for him being some form of spirit combatant or arcane user, even if every royal so far has followed the path of the sword." He expressed.
"I'm not particularly worried. We have bodyguards picked out for him, all at the least at the 2nd level of their respective arts. Not to mention that word will soon spread that anyone to provoke him will soon find themselves at the mercy of his jokes. I almost feel bad." Velet remarked with a slight smile.
Aramet's face fell. He grimaced at the thought of having to offer apologies for anything that Mata could cause in a foreign country. He'd have to get Mata's promise to at the least tone down his escapades. He'd get a promise to have them cut out completely if he didn't know that it'd be entirely useless. He couldn't help but remember his own father when he thought of Mata. The Flame of Pylet, it's founder. He vividly recalled his fathers retainers wearing expressions like his very own at this moment when they had to clean up after their beloved King. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry when he realized that the most capable member of his family, his deceased father, was the one Mata resembled the most. "He wouldn't take anything too far, right Velet? He's not egotistical and childish enough to start a war unintentionally for his amusement, right?" Aramet asked with a troubled look on his face.
Velet frowned in response. "We should probably send more people to keep an eye on him.." She muttered.