The theatre was dark, and the stage was lit. Actors shuffled under the spotlights, figuratively setting the stage for the play to come - the physical set had been placed some minutes ago.

The boxes, always peopled by the higher class, currently contained a royal family each. Wei-Ling's two monarchs, the heir, and the spare. Hard to say which child was which, honestly, but that's what two children in royal families nearly always meant. Above that box was the royal family of Freezenberg, with… an additional princess. Chloe, was it? What was she doing there, anyhow, didn't…. Oh, it doesn't matter. In the highest box of that side of the seating, there was a pair of princesses from, ah… Oz, that was it… and their gaudily dressed royal sorcerer. In the box. With them. But of course, a certain king didn't even think to ask. A certain king wouldn't have remembered to give- oh, this is a useless train of thought, best to move along, move along.

On the other side of the room, King Magnus looked down from his otherwise empty box. He always needed to be on the top, of course. Below his box was the royal family of Khaldune. No idea what any of the too-many kids' or either ruler's names were. Places were connected to reagents, their origins. Little was connected to modern royal families. Sure, some might have something named after them in a few years, or decades. That wasn't helpful now.

Regardless, the lowest box on the right-hand side of the theatre (or stage left… again, doesn't matter…) was the Enchancian royalty. Baileywick, the… the…. cad was there, too. Of course he would be.

Cedric, on the other hand, was treated like the rest of the castle staff. ...Highly ranked, at least. There was that, he supposed. Royal stewards and sorcerers were some of the few picked by the families to attend this event. Of course, they had to sit in the normal seating, but it...wasn't a bad seat, all told.

It would have been nice if the show were any good.

"You know, Beatnik, I think you rather resemble our leading man."

Cedric glared silently at Greylock, who sat next to him. "That isn't even a word," he responded, facing front again to ostensibly watch the play.

Greylock tilted his head and put a finger to his chin. "Are you sure?" A moment of thought, then he shrugged. "There's the obvious. You don't go on monologues about your nose like he seems to, and his is rather more bulbous, but they do bear more than a passing resemblance."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. You're hilarious."

"You're not terribly poetic either, nor good with a sword - or a wand for that matter." Cedric scoffed, causing Greylock to amend, "All right, that was probably not necessary. ...Ooh, he's supposed to be poor, too, so you do have that in common."

No. It... This... Greylock always does this. He's said before it's meant in good fun. It's funny, getting a rise out of Cedric. Stop responding, and he'll stop finding it funny. ...No matter… what… he… says. Focus on something.

"Then, as I end the refrain, thrust home," the long-nosed actor on stage said. Or rather, the well made-up actor with the false nose, most likely. Most acting troupes don't have top performers who are quite so… This isn't helpful either.

Cedric's averted eyes caught a glinting, a twinkle of stage light reflected off a purple amulet. Well. That was certainly a different train of thought at least. When was the last time he'd tried to scheme it away from dear youn- from Princess Sofia, again? He'd have to try again… eventually.

Of course, he'd had a few opportunities to just take the damned thing, during Sofia's years as being his unofficial aide. She seemed to be everyone's unofficial aide at some point or other, but she did seem to gravitate towards his sorcery and alchemy. And, well, he always gave some nominal complaints, snide remarks here and there, but he couldn't ever really begrudge her, either. Usually, overly happy people were just aggravating, but her positivity actually did lift his spirits.

...Speaking (thinking?) of overly happy people, Greylock seemed to have switched tactics while Cedric had tuned him out. "Oh oh oh, what's that smile for, Cedric?"

Smile? "What smile," Cedric retorted, dropping… Huh. Dropping what apparently had been a smile into a grimace.

On stage, the main character seemed to be fencing with another man, but was still reciting lines for some reason. Cedric caught the end of it, "Then, as I end the refrain- " The dueling stance changed a bit, "thrust home!" And the actor did just that. The scripted fight seemed to be over.

"I was just… enjoying this, ah. Sword fighting, definitely." Hephaestus' hammer, he was bad at lying.

"Daydreaming of something nice, hm? A special lady friend I don't know about? Or maybe admiring your royal family, that did seem to be where you were looking. They are all such handsome creatures, I can hardly blame you. King Roland and his chiseled jaw, Queen Miranda's warm features and soft face, and even the younger generation is shaping up quite nicely, if you kn- "

Before he had time to think, Cedric had stood up from his chair, slipped out his wand, pointed it at Greylock, and said, "Takebackitus!"

There was a pause between the two, and grumbling in the seats behind them. Eventually, Greylock asked, "What exactly was your aim there, Cedric?"

Cedric huffed, and tried again. "Magickum Missilus!" Something that looked like a glowing, miniature comet sprang from Cedric's wand, and flew towards Greylock - even changing direction as the other sorcerer attempted to dodge.

"Cedric! Ow! Was that- ow- necessary?"

Cedric answered that with another, "Magickum Missilus."

Greylock grimaced and pointed his wand at himself and said, "Healum hurtum," and a ball of light, larger than the magic missiles, slowly came out of Greylock's wand, and melted into his body. Then, he pointed his wand at Cedric again. "Pushum backus!"

Cedric was pushed past the few chairs that were between him and the aisle between sections by an invisible force. "Magickum Missilus!"

"Magickum Missilus, then! Though you can't just keep using the same spell."

"I can keep using it as long as it works! Magickum Missilus, Magickum Missilus, Magickum Missilius!"

By this point, most of the theater was watching the two sorcerers. After Greylock cast Misdirectum Projectilium and caused Cedric's magic to veer towards other patrons, many of these onlookers couldn't leave fast enough. Still, many others stayed to watch the fireworks - both figurative and literal. The royals in their boxes seemed to be especially intrigued, given good seating for this show too. Cedric tried not to pay attention to them, and definitely not to the person he was accused of imagining. Instead, he focused on the fight- he eventually had to change tactics, but at no point let up on his strategy of full-frontal assault, and even had Greylock backed up to the other side of the room.

Greylock jumped and turned to look as he backed into the wall, then looked back at Cedric, still advancing, and back to firing magic missiles. "Shieldanum Divinicus!" A thin bubble of light surrounded the wizard, and the incoming attacks fizzled into nothing as they impacted its surface.

Lowering his wand, Cedric said, "You… You wouldn't."

"I would!" said Greylock. "I still don't really even know what we're fighting about." Another magic missile bounced off his shield - it looked like Cedric couldn't do much else. "Oh, well," continued Greylock, "Hominem Locati No-" His spell was interrupted by a pair of soldiers grabbing Greylock's arms, one on each side.

Cedric was grabbed as well, though more from behind. At present, though, he was more occupied with the fact that… right… The bubble worked to protect from magic attacks and harmful blows, but didn't do anything to anyone just casually… reaching inside. Even just chucking his wand would probably have been enough to disrupt the other man's spell casting, had the guards not arrived.

Constable Miles had apparently been invited, for he was here, and seemed to be directing the guards. Huh. Oh, right, he was speaking.

"Just what happened here? Both of you, speak up!" Oh. Well. He certainly did have a… very. Impressive and, frankly, rather intimidating air when on the wrong end of it. Cedric hadn't paid much mind before.

Greylock started, "I, well, I don't really know what Cedric there was on about. Just up and- "

"That's not true!" Ugh, his voice cracked. Fifty years old, and his voice still did that thing. Why. "You were impugning the honor of- "

"Cedric! I was joking. You know that! Jokes, I make them, you don't laugh, we all have a good time, and don't try to kill each other."

Cedric looked away - he couldn't turn his whole body, still being held in a double arm lock, but he could turn his head aside and "Hmph!" dismissively, at least.

...When had the Enchancians - no, no, most of the family was still in the box, it was just Roland here, huffing a bit from running. Or maybe just the stairs, he was getting old. ...Then again, he was in much better shape now than Cedric had ever been in his life, so it was probably running. He barely even looked his age, with only a barely noticeable silver bar amidst his golden locks. Cedric's hair, in contrast… It was getting a little difficult to distinguish the magical white o his bangs (which had themselves grown with age) and the ordinary fading of his black hair.

"What's- " Huff. "What's going on?" Roland asked.

Constable Miles turned to him and answered, "King Roland. There seems to have been a… rather dramatic misunderstanding, as far as I gather. I suppose that's sorcerers, for you." Well, that wasn't fair.

Roland nodded. "Is it sorted out now, then?"

"I don't know, we ought to ask them." Miles looked to the two wizards. "Is it?"

Greylock shrugged as best as he could from his position. "I'm perfectly happy to kiss and make up if ol' Cedwick is."

Cedric narrowed his eyes. "I don't know if you're just being shmoopy or trying to imply something about me and the royal steward, Greylock, but don't do it again. And I'm not kissing anyone! But I…" He closed his eyes and sighed. "Yes, yes, all right, I agree to 'be good' or whatever it is you want. So long as I don't have to keep watching this blasted farce of a story!" Given how his hands were still held hostage, Cedric made do with jerking his head towards the stage where the actors still stood as he emphasized the word 'this.' The actors in question were paused, but ambling a bit, and certainly not ceased.

"Assuming that the show must go on, of course," added Cedric.

King Magnus arrived, huffing even more heavily than had Roland, as the other king was asking Miles about the statements. "Is that good enough, legally speaking, or do they have to be officially detained?" the King Roland asked.

Constable Miles shrugged. "We're in Enchancia, sire, and while I am usually the authority in such matters, I also usually don't handle matters involving Your Highness. It remains up to your judgement, sir."

Roland put his hand to his chin and skewed his mouth to one side as he thought. "I don't know about Greylock, so - Oh, King Magnus! I'm glad you're, ah, finally here. I- "

"Yes, yes, grand of me to show up, yes? Well, I'll- I'll have you know my royal sorcerer is the grandest sorcerer in the world."

"I, uh, I'm sure he is, but is he trustworthy? He- "

Magnus frowned deeply and crossed his arms. "Of course he's trustworthy! Do you think I would allow- "

"Now see here, Magnus!" Roland nearly shouted. My, he didn't usually raise his voice. Years of dealing with such a king as a relatively close neighbor might do that, Cedric supposed. "I just need to corroborate his promise to play nice with the other sorcerers."

With a squinting of his eyes, Magnus retorted, "From where I sat, it looked like it was your sorcerer who needed to make that promise."

King Roland brought a hand to his forehead and said, "Yes, and I will deal with him."...Finnegan's Fungus, that wasn't good. "But we need both of them to agree, and you are the only authority I have on your sorcerer."

The larger and older king was still pouting a bit, but he answered, "Yes, Greylock keeps his word. Backs down the moment he's told he's gone too far with his jokes." Magnus then shot a glare at Greylock, which Cedric thought implied that Greylock had pranked his own king. Brave. The nervous smile and chuckle from the other sorcerer did nothing to dissuade Cedric of this notion.

"Fantastic," Roland said before turning to Cedric and pausing to look at the smaller man for a moment. After Cedric had tried not to squirm under the king's stare for… entirely too long, Roland finally said, "I trust Cedric to keep his word as well. Let them both go."

Cedric blinked as his arms were freed. Merciful Morgause, that was not what he was expecting. He took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself as the soldiers retreated.

...And then he held that last breath as Roland approached him. Ohh dear…

Roland put a hand on Cedric's shoulder. "Don't do that again." The taller man looked left and right and leaned a bit further in, and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "That really was impressive, I was quite surprised! And congratulations on winning, or nearly." Then he straightened up again and said in his normal voice, "But yes. Don't do it again." With a curt nod, the king turned around and walked away. "Escort the sorcerer's outside of the hall," he asked a soldier as he left the room. "They don't have to leave the building entirely, but I don't want any more interruptions in case their truce falls apart." Then he was truly gone, presumably to go back to his box.

Cedric was frozen to the spot. Had… that… really happened? He wouldn't have moved for quite a while had the soldier not gently nudged the sorcerer, and shortly ushered the latter out of the room. Another soldier took care of Greylock, and then the doors were slammed on the both of them.