Forge, glancing over Blade's daily agenda for the umpteenth time, silently wondered where the queen was. As he considered trying to find her, her brother strutted into the throne room, grumbling something about her.
"Logan," Forge addressed him. The ex-king glowered in his direction. Ignoring his cold look, Forge asked, "you wouldn't happen to know where on earth your sister is, would you?"
"Why do you need to know?" asked Logan.
"I have the right to know, considering the fact that I'm her advisor and her inamorato."
Logan cringed at the thought the word triggered. He replied, "all the more reason why I shouldn't tell you." After a moment, he added, "oh, you're not allowed to give her any more toy swords."
"More?" Forge asked. Suddenly Logan turned his head, revealing a large, red welt on the side of his face. Upon the sight of it, Forge began snickering.
"It's not funny!" Logan seethed.
"You're right," said Forge, between breaths, "it's not funny. It's hilarious!"
Logan continued to glare at the guffawing blacksmith, until Ben and Blade entered the room.
"Forge!" called Blade, as she raced toward the man.
Ben followed after, lunging in front of the queen.
"Don't worry; I'll protect you!" he said, drawing his sword.
"That's it!" an enraged deviant declared.
"Eek!" cried Blade, hiding behind Forge.
"She's done it this time!" Reaver shouted, raising his finger at Blade. Across his face was a bruise similar to the former king's. Forge stared at him, trying not to laugh.
"You think this is funny?!" asked Reaver.
"Correction," Logan interrupted with a smirk, "He finds it hilarious."
"Did I say hilarious?" asked Forge with a sheepish grin.
Reaver glared at the blacksmith.
"Just out of curiosity," Forge dared to ask, "what did Blade do anyway?"
"I've been making internet parodies," squeaked Blade from behind him.
"She hit me with a wooden sword, ruining my beautiful face," answered Reaver.
"You poor baby," said a sarcastic Ben.
"Oh, suck it up," Forge replied.
Reaver scowled at the pair.