A/N: I should be working on my other five stories but this puppy decided to write itself at 2 o'clock in the morning about three weeks ago and is almost done. Yeah, I had no choice in the matter. I am literally working on the middle section and then this puppy will be done. I will try to post some more stories tomorrow and Tuesday of next week.

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Once upon a time, in a land not too very different from here, there lived a beautiful maiden with long dark tresses and… Nah!

True the story does start with once upon a time and it was in a land not too very different from our own, but this story is about no fair maiden. Yes, there are fair maidens in here but that's just not what this story is about. This story is about a man. Sir Eliot Spencer, the black knight of the world known as Leverage. This is the story of how he came to claim that title and save a kingdom from a most unspeakable ruler; King Damien Moreau. We will start at the beginning, for that is the only true place to start. After all, if the whole point of a story was merely to hear the end than there would be no point to the story.

It was a nice, clear, blue sunny day in the world of Leverage when Sir Eliot Spencer began his memorable journey. Nope, that's far too cliché for someone like Eliot Spencer. No, it was a drowsy, blustery, cold, wet, and miserable day when Sir Eliot Spencer began to embark on his greatest journey. It was within the walls of the grand castle of San Lorenzo that our story begins. Eliot Spencer was ending his campaign with the great and terrible Damien Moreau.

"I'm leaving."

The words slipped out of Eliot's mouth the moment his King stepped into the room. The knight had finally reached the end of his campaign as Moreau's faithful servant. It was the death of one far too innocent that finally did him in. He could no longer sleep or stand the blood on his tainted hands. His career of death and despair was over.

"I thought as much."

The king was not upset by the matter at hand as expected. It was a surprise to the loyal knight. He had witnessed many knights and subjects face wrath and anger at King Damien's hand. It only spoke volumes that he was not surprised by this change of events.

"Your highness, I'm sor…" King Damien waved him off.

"Do not apologize to me for reaching the end of your campaign with me." The king walked from his thrown to his bar and poured himself a drink. He offered Eliot a glass and the knight gently refused. The king shrugged and continued, "I have sensed your waning strength for some time. Ever since that incident in Belgrade to be exact."

The knight winced at the reminder and the king smiled. That was an intended jibe. "I cannot allow you to stay under my command and I was considering removing you if you did not come to me."

The king observed his knight's prepared posture and rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to kill you, Eliot," he said, "You've been loyal to me even to this very moment. I have no reason, nor do I wish, to end your life. I merely wish to ask you how much you would like for retirement and if you think you have the strength for one more job."

Eliot visibly relaxed and the kind offer. This was the king very few got to see. King Damien was strict and ruthless yes, but he was also smart. He knew Eliot would not back out on their deal and likewise Moreau would not back out of his. They were at an impasse where loyalty was still there but the heart had gone. There was no reason to kill him and the king knew that.

"I can go on no longer, your highness." Eliot bowed for full effect. "I wish to retire with only the amount you see fit. I will leave your lands in search of a town that does not know me or you and you will never hear from me again."

"Very well," King Damien clapped his hands together and several guards entered, "See to it that Eliot has a horse and a wagon of treasure. Tonight we will celebrate his retirement and send him on his way. I wish him to leave my Kingdom and to never return under any circumstances unless by order from one of my fellow royals, understand?"

The message was really quite clear. Eliot, and the guards, nodded.

"Then let us have a feast to be envied," King Damien nodded.

The feast began and ended without bloodshed and the ex-soldier was on his way. He traveled through lands both dangerous and safe, wild and tame, glorious and bland, enslaved and free, let's just say he traveled through a lot of contradictory lands, okay?

On and on Eliot Spencer traveled for many days and nights with only one particular destination in mind, home. He had never been there nor had he ever experienced the feeling but he wanted it. He had been raised to believe that home was where your heart was. For years, Eliot had thought it was with Moreau, but it wasn't. He had yet to find that special place that claimed him as its own. No, the black knight of San Lorenzo had yet to find where he truly belonged and that was where he was headed. He traveled throughout Leverage for a full year and a half before he stumbled upon a tiny Kingdom he had once known as a child.

He had listened to stories as a boy of a great ruler who was hard on his people, but he was also just and fair. The king's people never starved or went hungry and they always had something redeemable to say about their king. King James had taken great care in securing his kingdom so that his son may bask in his legacy. Eliot had always wanted to see what it was like to live in the Kingdom of such a legendary man. It was time to find out.

The ex-soldier walked into town in search of a place to stay. He carefully watched as peasants and lords all barely gave him a glance during their conversations. Nobody seemed to care that there was someone new stepping into their town. In fact, they acted like it was quite normal. That was a good sign.

Eliot found himself a general store and quickly bought his steed a bundle of hay for feed. He found a trough and debated the pros and cons of leaving his wagon unattended while he went and had a drink in the tavern. His hunger and thirst won out and the ex-soldier entered the place. The patrons didn't stop as most would expect patrons to do at a new face. No, they merely kept on talking and ignored the intruder to their land.

Eliot smiled at that and immediately sought himself a table and a chair. The place was stacked with patrons and yet there were still empty tables and chairs throughout. It was no difficult task to find a little spot somewhere in the back where he could keep an eye on things. The ex-soldier sat down and immediately felt some relief at his rest. Then a mug of brew smashed onto the table without an invitation. Eliot looked up and saw a beautiful barmaid with flaming red hair and blue-green eyes staring down at him.

"You look like you could use a drink," she said, indicating the pint on the table before him. Eliot smiled at the gesture and immediately took a swig of the best mead he had ever tasted. The barmaid watched him for a few minutes and waited until he was finished before she scooped up his empty cup. "Is a refill of mead the only thing you want?"

Eliot grinned. This maid was the best in her business to pick up on things so quickly.

"I'd like the best thing on your menu if you don't mind," he said.

She smiled and nodded her head. She took the glass and immediately went to carry out his order. She came back moments later with another pint and a bowl of nuts.

"While you're waiting," she explained. Then she was off again, waiting on another customer as if she had never been to his table at all.

Eliot chuckled at the red head's idea and immediately started munching on the salty sweet snack. He sat back in his chair and happily took in his surroundings. He was already feeling at ease with the place.

The entire tavern seemed to be covered with dark mahogany wood. The whole place was pure wood with the exceptions being the red tapestries hanging along walls and the curtains on the windows. A golden chandelier with tiny crystals and candles shimmered in the center of the ceiling to shed some light on the dark place. Candle lamps with gold plating were hanging three on a wall and shedding more light into the room. The red curtains were drawn back to allow the natural light of the sun to fill the place as well. Every table was round with enough chairs to easily sit six people and a candle to help light their way. The bar stood on the back wall with two double doors that clearly led to the kitchen located just beside that. The round stools twisted and turned to help the regular patrons trade tales and pull back a drink. A grand staircase of wood and gold stood near the front of the tavern to show that there were some apartments upstairs. All in all, the place felt like a cozy in instead of dark and gritty tavern. It was the right place to be and the ex-soldier was happy to be there.

The redhead reappeared just after his assessment of the building was over. She delicately placed a plate of the absolute best smelling lamb in the world. The lamb was accompanied by apples and potatoes and they all smelled equally divine. She replaced his pint of mead and left again without a moment of hesitation.

The ex-soldier grinned and quickly began to shovel food into his mouth and he savored every taste. He quickly scooped up an apple and observed the other patrons of the place. It was mostly old men discussing the affairs of business or family. Some were gray while others were barely old enough to even count as boys. A small game of pokers was playing towards the front but nobody seemed to be holding so much as a knife let alone a good blade. Trouble didn't seem to occur here and that was exactly what Eliot was hoping for. He turned his head towards the back and noticed a pair talking in hushed voices.

The man was wearing the usual tunic; it was blue and loosely held a black vest. His trousers were black and his boots seemed to match the tunic. His coat was flung half-hazardly onto the chair he was sitting on and he held a sheathed sword to his hip. That was the only weapon Eliot could see but he wasn't worried. The man was drinking tankards of mead as if they were nothing but water. The woman had dark curls of locks and was of a darker complexion than the gentleman accompanying her. She wore a lavender dress and a golden ring on a chain. There was no hat on her head and her shoes were unusually low for a woman in a lady's attire. The pair kept their voices low and their heads were stooped so that anyone could push one and they would both be touching completely. Their bodies were angled towards each other and gave the impression of two lovers having an intimate moment by candlelight. Eliot smiled and went back to the delicious food. There was nothing to worry about from these patrons. He was safe to eat and be merry in peace. He almost didn't even hear the barmaid return with another pint of mead.

"I see you find the food to your liking," she said. Eliot smiled and nodded his head vigorously. His mama taught him to never speak with his mouthful. It was rude and did more harm than good.

"I'm glad," she laughed. She immediately looked around the bar for a minute; her eyes lingered towards the couple in the back for a fraction of a second longer than everywhere else. Then she sat down in the chair directly in front of him and placed her elbows on the table and her head on her hands. "So where are you from and why did you decide to stop in the Blacklands?"

Eliot tilted his head and swallowed. He had expected the question to come his way. He stared at his plate and contemplated where he would begin and how. He lifted his head up and thought about starting at the beginning.

The redhead's eyes grew wide and she immediately sat back in the chair. Her hands fell off the table and she shook her head before he could even speak. "I'm sorry," she said, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'm just interested in travelers and it's not like we get very many. You're free to tell me whatever you like. I'm a very good listener and I won't tell anything you don't want me to. I was just curious."

Eliot sighed in relief and smiled. "It's alright, darlin," he said, "You just startled me with the question is all. I'm actually from a little town outside of Blacklands. Well, I was when I was a boy but that was a long time ago. I'm actually looking for a place to call home."

"Well I hope you find it," the red head smiled in reply. She immediately got up from the chair and picked up his glass. "You need another pint."

Eliot smiled at the offer and remembered something very important. If he was going to take a shot at living here, he needed to know a few things. He grabbed the barmaid's arm and waited until he had her attention. "King James, does he still rule these lands or has that changed? I've been gone so long I doubt I even have the right King anymore."

The redhead's eyes filled with sadness and she looked down into the empty tankard.

"Let me get you another pint and then I'll tell you," she replied. Then she was gone again and Eliot was left waiting to hear what happened to a Kingdom he had once been a part of.

The redhead returned within moments and sat down across from him again. She twiddled with her fingers a bit and finally answered the ex-soldier's question.

"It was a great disease that finally took King Jimmy away from us," she explained, "He was a good man and a loyal king. Sure he did have some flaws but he was a just king. It was ten years ago to the day. His son, Nathan, has taken the thrown."

Eliot sighed in relief. There had been a time right before he left the Blacklands when the entire kingdom doubted Prince Nathan would take the throne. He never showed any interest in taking the crown despite the fact that he was more than qualified for the job. He always wanted to help people and did everything in his power to do so. He was considered an honest man and everybody wished him to take the crown. It was nice to know Blacklands had a leader worthy of its people.

"I've heard of King Nathan's conquests," Eliot replied gently. It was the truth. King Nathan had become well-known for the way he stopped his cousin Earle Victory Dubenich from taking the throne of this land. The ex-soldier had forgotten about the stories of his hometown in the letters his parents sent. Even King Damien was afraid of King Nathan's power. The Blacklands was on his list of Kingdoms he wished to align himself with. Eliot had always thought it was out of respect to him but now he was certain it was because King Nathan might have actually been powerful enough to defeat him.

"He is the best king a kingdom could ask for," the redhead answered his question immediately. She didn't need him to ask it to know. It was the question everyone asked when they heard about King Nathan. "He protects us from thieves and those who wish to hurt us. We have never had a more prosperous than under his rule."

Eliot was still trying to digest that when the murmuring voices in the back began to get excruciatingly loud. Every eye in the place immediately found its way towards the back of the room. Naturally, it was a fight between a man and a woman that had the crowd's attention.

"Listen," the man howled towards the woman. He was leaning forward in his chair to the point where he was practically in her face and bending over the table. "I don't care what you think! I'm not going to lower the taxes on the toll bridges and roads just because you think they're a little too high!"

"Great," the woman's voice was a cruel whistle of a thing as the frustration and anger seemed to be getting the best of her. "You should really think about telling that to the farmers who can't afford to eat or better yet the children who go to bed with empty bellies!"

"Who are you to tell me how to do my job?" the man rose out of his chair indignantly. He threw his hands on his hips and glared at the woman with all of his might. She seemed completely unperturbed by the glare though. In fact, the woman mirrored his stance by rising from her chair and sending an impressive and much more terrifying glare the man's way. Neither one looked like they were about to back down and the entire tavern was loving it.

"Considering you're not doing your job," she growled, her voice suddenly dropping a full octave and a half to show her discontent. "I think I can honestly say I'm the person looking out for those who are too afraid to speak for themselves!"

"You're nothing but a nosy, know it all!" The man fired back. He actually had the audacity to point his finger in her face and lean against his table with his right hand. The fool actually thought he won.

"And you're nothing but an arrogant son of a bitch who has absolutely no idea how to protect the people he claims to love!" She scowled at her guest.

The table was the one to suffer for her remark. The man picked it up and flipped it towards her with dangerous intent in mind. Eliot gently began to remove his sword from its hilt while glass and wine dribbled and bounced across the grains of the floor. He would not stand by and watch anymore. This was about to get physical.

The woman's scowl just grew deeper. She rolled her eyes and delicately picked up her skirts. She rushed out to the back muttering obscenities and yelling about idiocies as if it were normal for a customer to leave through the kitchen area. Apparently it was if the way the entire tavern seemed to turn away from the action just then was any indication. The fight must have been a regular phenomenon for townsfolk to act so unfazed by the clattering of teacups and china. Even the smashing of objects in the kitchen couldn't deter them from their return to drinking and dining. Odd.

"The wretch of a woman," the man grumbled after the disappearing figure. He was raising his hands towards the Heavens in frustration before he quickly turned around and stared at his mess.

"Ahh!" He scowled. He quickly scooped up the table and replaced it to its former glory. He ignored the redheaded barmaid trying desperately to get to the mess, but he kept pushing her away. At least the man was decent enough to clean up after himself, Eliot couldn't help to think as he watched the angry man carefully pick up shards of glass and pottery.

"I'm sorry, Cora," the man sighed in frustration, "I broke a cup and chipped another. I'll pay for the whole set and buy you a new one immediately."

"It's okay…" the barkeep, Cora apparently, began to explain. She seemed to be a bit too understanding for her own good. The man could have hurt people.

"No," the man shook his head at her kind gesture, "I broke it and I'm going to make it up to you." He then turned his awkward grin towards Eliot and stood to his full height. "Sheath your sword, young man! There's no need for you to die today."

Eliot just stared at the guy. Was he serious? The man was taller and more lean by nature sure, but come on! Eliot's fought men twice the guy's size without even batting a lash. What exactly would a curly-cue, dark brown haired man do to him? But Eliot sheathed his sword at the order. There was something about the guy that commanded respect and consideration. It was probably the way his icy blue eyes seemed far more intelligent than they did on first inspection. So instead…

"Why are you so sure I'll be the one to die?" Eliot asked just out of interest. His curiosity was way too peaked for his own good to turn back now. The other man seemed likewise distracted.

"I haven't lost a fight yet," the man's grin grew into a full blown smile and his eyes grew amused at the gesture, "Of course, my men probably weren't trying all that hard but it would be a fun match no doubt. I'm sure somebody in this town would love to watch me get my rear end handed to me." The man looked towards the ceiling at that last bit of information and raised his voice expectantly. It was as if he was waiting for someone to start another argument or at least agree with his assessment. No answer came though so he shrugged and returned his gaze to Eliot.

"She must still be mad at me," he said. He then turned towards Cora with a wicked grin and voice raised high in mockery, "And you want me to marry that woman? Are you out of your mind?"

Cora just smiled demurely at the comment. She looked towards the ceiling for just a moment and then shook her head. She collected her skirts and headed for the kitchen with a tray of dishes. The man's gaze returned to the ceiling again and with a roll of his eyes, he shook his head.

"You know," Eliot scowled at the way the man was acting. It was disrespectful to throw a table at a woman and then immediately act as if nothing out of the ordinary happened at all. It was just plain rude. Eliot pulled on his sword again just to make his intentions clear, "It's rude to turn over a table in a public setting where everybody is having a good time."

"Is that so?" The man raised an eyebrow at the soldier's cool tone. The man didn't even look threatened by the sword's glossy sheen or the meaning behind it. In fact, the bastard looked thoroughly entertained by the notion.

Eliot stepped forward and felt the entire tavern tense. Apparently this wasn't part of the regularly scheduled program. "Yeah, that's so," he said.

The man's wicked grin grew wider again. His eyes shown with interest but he ignored the sword still waiting to be fully drawn. His icy blue gaze was steady with Eliot's the whole time. The soldier growled when he realized the fool was actually calculating how long it would take to draw. No, he was calculating how long it would take them to fight and worse, he was even calculating who would win. Who was this guy?

"I like you," the man decided right on the spot. It was enough to make Eliot pause. He wasn't exactly a likeable guy and this man decided he was worthy of his attention? There was something odd going on. Eliot knew he was missing something very important.

"Who are you?" Eliot stared at the man in confusion.

"Oh, well I consider myself to be a pretty nice guy," the man flashed a bit of teeth towards his captivated audience. He then nodded his head towards the ceiling and continued, "She considers me a cocky, insufferable bastard of a man with an ego the size of a walrus… and I'm apparently an arrogant son of a bitch to boot!"

As if in answer to his reply, a loud thud was heard from above. Nobody even flinched at the strange sound but it was obvious what it was. It was the woman who had been fighting with him a few moments ago. She lived in the apartments above and that was why the guy had been glancing up at the ceiling. At least that made sense.

The man just smiled wider at the thump. It was as if that answered more than the obvious question spoken to the group. That was odd. Most people didn't actually enjoy being called foul names and told they didn't know what they were doing. This guy appeared to live for it.

His eyes finally lowered to meet Eliot's surprised gaze again, "Most people just know me as the King."

Uh-oh! Eliot immediately sheathed his sword and fell to his knee. He bowed his head and silently cursed himself for not catching onto that sooner. He was a trained soldier who'd been to battle with several kingdoms over the years. Hell, he fought alongside Damien for so long the characteristics should have popped up immediately. He was in trouble now.

"Forgive me, King Nathan," he stumbled out in reply, "I didn't realize…"

"Oh get up off your knee," the King interrupted. His voice sounded exasperated and kind of embarrassed by the show of character. "You're a stranger! How could you possibly even know who I am, if I'm not even wearing my coat of arms?"

"I should have recognized it from your character…" Eliot continued to apologize. There were certain things you didn't do when you entered a new town. Insulting the King was a major one of them.

"Ehh, my character's not that great anyway," the King shrugged, "The worse you could have done was prove her point."

His finger pointed upward to indicate the 'her' he was referring to. The loud clattering of glass seemed to be his answer. The smile on the King's face seemed to suggest it was exactly what he was looking for.

"So what's your name, soldier?" The King asked this and then immediately began circling around him in interest. It was like this was a game and not a matter of INSULTING THE FRICKIN KING!

"Eliot Spencer, your highness," Eliot bowed his head in respect. He didn't know what was going on but it was definitely unusual. Nobody else in the broken down tavern seemed interested in the scene, just the King. Everybody else just kept on with their business as if this were an everyday occurrence. What was wrong with these people? And why did he feel so at home all of a sudden?

"Please, call me Nate," the King waved his hand arbitrarily. Eliot stared. The King stared back in confusion, "What did I say?"

"You told me to call you by your given name, your highness," Eliot explained. He was really working on figuring out a way to get out of this place. He had a sick feeling that wasn't going to happen though. There was way too much interest going on from the King.

"It was a joke," the King chuckled and rolled his eyes, "Nobody calls me Nate. Except the Shrew!"

"Shrew!" The scream could barely be described as human let alone female. But judging by the way the entire tavern was smiling, it was definitely the woman upstairs. There were a few more sounds of clattering and crashing to make the case solid.

"You can call me Nathan," the King ordered simply. There was seriousness in his eyes. He must have meant it. What kind of King actually wants his people to identify with him? Again, what kind of King goes throwing around tables in taverns as if it's nothing? A normal one.

"Nathan?" Eliot tested it out just to be sure he was right on it being an order.

"Yeah," the King, Nathan, nodded at the gesture. "Everybody calls me Nathan unless I'm the King."

"And when are you the King?"

"When I'm wearing my coat of arms," Nathan whispered conspiratorially to him. Then he smiled enigmatically and said, "And when I say I am, but that's only for cheating purposes and chess matches against the shrew upstairs."

"I'm not a shrew!" The entire tavern chuckled. There was no thud in reply this time.

Nathan smiled a plot of evil intentions. He raised his eyebrows with vicious glee shimmering in his eyes. He looked at the door for a moment and turned a conspiratorial wink towards his new compatriot. Eliot didn't like where this was going and he knew exactly who this was for.

"Watch this," the King commanded, emitting a low chuckle of pure evil all the while. He slowly creeped towards the door and, allowing another deep throated chuckle to escape his lips, opened and slammed the door closed. He immediately straightened himself to look the absolute image of innocence and stood by the door in wait. A rush of feet could be heard running towards the stairs. Suddenly, the woman from before came crashing down and somehow made it look and sound like she was being as graceful as a swan.

She looked towards Cora and asked, "Is he gone?" Then she stopped, while still in the middle of the staircase, and stared at the King in confusion. No, she flicked her dark brown tresses of curls and narrowed her brown eyes at the King's presence. Only one thing could describe the way the woman gazed upon the King; hatred. She hated the man. Well, he did throw a table at her.

"I'm still here," Nathan smiled charmingly towards the woman on the stairs. He even waved. There was no doubt that he enjoyed the way she raced towards the stairs to make certain he was gone. His smug grin was absolutely oozing with success. The two of them really hated each other apparently. Eliot could figure that much out, but he didn't quite understand why the other patrons in the bar were smiling so victoriously.

"Did you miss me?" the King asked. Eliot flinched at the scowl on the woman's face. If looks could kill, the King would have probably been dead way before Eliot got to town.

"No," the woman huffed towards him with the upper hand clearly in her court. "I just thought that maybe the air was safe to breathe again. Unfortunately, you're still here clogging it. There go my dreams of ever breathing safely again."

"So you did miss me," Nathan concluded in a bout of madness. That could be the only way to describe a person's intent to poke a bear that's already been poked awake by the same stick. There's a reason why the saying Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned exists. It's to save men's lives.

"If one could truly miss a thorn in their horse's arse," the woman smiled coolly. She apparently won this battle because she was starting to go back upstairs. "Well, they'd be pretty disappointed to discover it is nothing more than a flea dying of disease." Then she turned around completely and bounced up the stairs in success.

"That little cheat," Nathan seethed in outrage of the comment. He quickly turned towards Eliot with sharp anger spewing from his lips. "Eliot, do me a favor and get rid of that little traitor for me. Stuff her good with that sharp little stick of yours. I want her to suffer."

Eliot blinked. There was only one reason any king would say that about a woman. Hell, there was only one woman who would dare to yell at a king. "You want me to kill your wife?"

This time Nathan was the one to balk at the question. He blinked a few times and tried very hard to make a sound escape his lips. His face was practically beet red now. "She's not my wife!"

Oh! He could kill the woman if she wasn't his wife. Anybody who disrespects a king should suffer the consequences. Besides, it was the law that any woman to speak against a man would be beaten. The penalty to speak against a king was death. Eliot shrugged his shoulders and sighed at his brain's constant thoughts. At least he was upholding the law this time. The ex-soldier quickly bounded towards the stairs. Then he felt a heavy weight on his left shoulder.

"Wait!" Nathan practically threw him away from the stairs. Eliot stumbled on his feet a bit and stared. The King actually did have some impressive strength to him. "I didn't actually mean kill her! I was just venting my frustrations out! Jeeze, what kind of king do you take me for?"

"Isn't it against the law to talk against the King?" Eliot couldn't exactly decide if he was surprised or confused by the King's actions.

"There's a law against insulting the King too but I don't exactly enforce that one either," Nathan rolled his eyes at the soldier. He then quickly wrapped the younger man in his arms and started pulling him through the door. "You need to learn how to take a joke, Eliot. You could really do some damage if you don't know how to laugh."

Eliot twirled around and stared at the King in confusion again. "What could you possibly know about having a laugh? You threw a table at a lady! Then you ordered me to kill her because she insulted you! Do you even understand the definition of insanity?"

"Now you're getting it," Nathan smirked at the soldier's blunt response. He was actually happy about the insults. He was getting high off of them. What kind of lunatic was this? "Come. You're going to join me as my guest at my castle tonight."

"Seriously?" Eliot demanded despite himself. It was kind of hard to believe this guy was the King when he acted so disrespectful towards his own laws. He didn't even wear his royal robes in public. Who was this guy?

"Like I said before," Nathan shrugged, "I like you."

Eliot was confused again. "Why?"

"You have the courage to stick up for those who are mistreated. You know when to back down from a fight. You share your thoughts honestly and with good reason. You are willing to follow orders to protect the law and the people served under it. And you're a damn riot to rile up," Nathan listed off every attribute as if he had been witness to their actions for years. The man had an eye for detail. That was probably why he was King. Hell, he was probably even a great King if he could get all of that in just a small bit of conversation.

"Is that enough for you?" he asked.

"Where to?"