Rouxls Kaard does not have time for this.

He also does not care for this, and would gladly draw up a bulleted list of reasons why. In fact, he will:

The King has requested his presence, and if Rouxls values his job at all (and he does, he really, really does) then he won't be foolish enough to leave his monarch waiting. He's seen what happens to those who disappoint their ruler (caged, if lucky; dead if not).

The King has requested his presence, when Rouxls was planning to spend the day working on puzzles (he knows he's awful at them and needs all the time he can get to construct something halfway decent - he'd ask the old puzzlemakers for help, but the risk is far too great). This meeting could be anything from a quick do better to a sprawling lecture as to just how badly he's screwing things up, so it's vital that Rouxls makes the most of the time he has, just in case of the latter.

The King has requested his presence, and Rouxls only tolerates Lancer to please the boy's father. He's a little crazy, but he isn't suicidal - upsetting Lancer to the point where the King finds out equals death.

Lancer is so. damn. annoying.

The child is pouting, slumped on the floor of the castle, glaring up at whatever poor object has offended him this time.

It would be so easy to sneak around him. Already a Rudinn is doing so. Rouxls would get to the King faster, and wouldn't have to deal with the brat. A total victory.

Well, for him. Not for Lancer.

Rouxls moves to step around him, but hesitates as the child mutters a swear under his breath - where did he learn that? At least it was only a Tier 1 swear, and at least his father wasn't around to hear.

With a heavy sigh, Rouxls stops.

"Mine Prince, telleth me: what ailst you?"

Lancer's reaction is immediate; he spins into a standing position, beaming up at Rouxls, and the urge to groan has to be choked down. "Lesser Dad! I've been looking for you for ages! I downloaded some new MP3s that I want you to listen to!"

"More noiseseths of splat?" Rouxls asks, already regretting his life choices.

"The best splat noises," Lancer confirms, literally bouncing with excitement.

Placing a hand atop the boy's head to still his movements, Rouxls says, "Thou issues?"

"Oh yeah!" Switching tracks as easily as always - Rouxls will never be able to comprehend how his mind works - Lancer twists and points. "Someone put my MP3 Player up there, and I can't reach it to get it down."

Rouxls gasps with as much drama as he can muster. "Who wouldst doeth such a thinge? Pointeth me to the Culprite, and I willst deliver Sweete justice!" he declares, gesturing heroically.

He only offers out of duty. Nothing more. He doesn't care. Seeing the brat suffer doesn't make his Soul twist in unnatural ways at all.

Lancer laughs. "Thanks, Lesser Dad! But it doesn't matter. I don't even know who did it. I just want it back."

All the kid needed to do was find something to stand on. Better yet, he could have ordered any of his father's subjects to help him - they are as bound to follow Lancer's every command as Rouxls is. As much as they'd rather have laughed behind Lancer's back, they'd have no choice but to comply (unless, of course, they fancied a trip to a nice, cramped cage).

"How else couldst thou show me thine splats?" Rouxls says with forced cheer. He reaches to pluck the player from its perch, then his eyes catch how Lancer's smile fades when he thinks Rouxls isn't looking, and a better idea comes to mind.

Pausing for only the briefest of seconds to mourn his dignity, Rouxls drops into an exaggerated stance. "Watcheth this!" With that, he spins, crouches, rises again and drops into a bowed position.

"Stool Forme!"

Lancer cheers and claps and doesn't move.

"That, uh, that wast thou're cue?"

"Oh, right!" Lancer clambers onto Rouxls' arched back, and Rouxls waits in agony as the brats feet dig into his spine. After what feels like an eternity, the pressure ceases, and Rouxls is able to straighten up.

The kid beams up at him, MP3 player held high like a trophy. "Got it! Now you can hear my cool new downloads!"

Rouxls goes to answer in the reluctant affirmative, but casts a glance down the corridor to the throne room (where he should be, enduring a lecture). "Oh, I wouldst loveth to, Prince, but alas, thou father has requested mine presence!"

Also, he adds, unspoken, I'd really rather not.

Lancer droops, and Rouxls heart melts a little. "But!" he hastens to continue, "Later! I shallst returneth to thou and Listene!"

The reaction is immediate; the kid perks right back up, eager smile stretching across his stupid face. "Yay! I'll look forward to it! Bye, Lesser Dad, see you later!"

With that the kid is gone, tearing off down the corridor at an alarming pace, and Rouxls, with a relieved sigh, rushes off in the other direction. He is so late, and his meeting with the King is now guaranteed to last a minimum of a few hours as penance. Even using Lancer as an excuse won't help him now.

When Rouxls remembers the kid's smile, though, it almost becomes worth it.

"Ahhh, our great Monarcke's son!" Rouxls sighs later on as he lies on the floor before the three prophesised heroes rummaging through his shop (and not stopping to admire his worms, which is a crime). "What a Paine ist he. Alwayst draggeths me into entertainingth him. I do not careth for thou're MP3s, knave, I havest more Importante things to do! And I have no relation to thine foolish self, so stop callething me thou 'Lesser Dad'! Leaveth me Alone!"

It strikes him that it has been hours since his run in with Lancer and, chewing his lip with the sudden anxiety that realisation brings, tacks on, "How is he, anyhow?"

The purple one-

-Rouxls has heard the stories about her, the whispered rumours, the terror-filled cries, all telling the tale of a beast far stronger and more cruel than anyone in the King's ranks. What if Lancer had run into their gang? Surely she would show no mercy to such a naïve fool as Lancer-

-the purple one rolls her eyes as she runs a hand appreciatively down the handle of the axe he has propped against the wall. "He's fine," she says dismissively. "Ran off happily last I saw."

"Not that I care," Rouxls says too loudly, just to make that point clear.

"I don't believe you," she replies, "but sure."

Rouxls sputters, throwing a horrified hand to his chest in an attempt to emphasise his disagreement. "Excuseth thou! I holdeth no love for that Pitiful creature! I placate him for his father'st sake only."

After a moment of silence, where all three of the supposed heroes watch him with varying stages of disbelief, he adds, "Don't tell his father I saidst that. I careth for my life."

"Noted," the purple one says. "Anyway, we should probably go catch up to Lancer."

Rouxls cannot deny the worry that sparks through him at that statement - catch up with him to do what? Beat him up? That child is far too stupid to run, he'd allow himself to be slaughtered! He'd probably thank them for it!

"Oh, yeah," the Darkner says in response, pulling away from the scarf that had caught his eye with one final, longing look. "We should see if he's had any success talking to his dad."

That shocks a reaction out of Rouxls, and he shoots out of his reclined position with a cry of, "He what?!"

"Talking to his dad?" the Darkner repeats, one hand flitting up to tug on his hat. "He said he was going to try and stop him from fighting us."

"He'll kill him," Rouxls says quietly, and he knows, knows, that he is right.

The three before him stare at him with equally-confused faces, and Rouxls wants to laugh at their cluelessness. "I don't think Lancer is that heartless," the Darkner speaks for them. "He wouldn't kill anyone."

"I don't doubt that."

"Then?"

"Oh," the purple one says, and Rouxls can see the understanding flare through her, presenting itself in comically wide eyes and a fallen-open mouth that would have Rouxls laughing mockingly at any other time. "Oh no."

All three have joined the dots, horror spreading through their ranks like a plague through a defenceless city. "We- we need to go," the Darkner stutters. "Go- check on him, or something."

The human grabs for the weapons their allies were admiring, almost throwing them at Rouxls in their haste. A wad of cash quickly follows. Rouxls snatches the money, shoving the weapons back, and the transaction is over in seconds. The human staggers beneath the weight of the axe, and the purple one has to swipe it up in her stronger grasp.

"Go," Rouxls says, breathless with fear, and the three nod, heft their respective weapons, and race out the door.

"I still don't care," he calls after them. "Careth," he amends after a pause.

"And I still don't believe you!" drifts back to him. "But thanks, I guess!"

He settles back against the wall of his shop, already planning how he can reduce the consequences Lancer faces for this - assuming, of course, the heroes get there in time.

For now, the best he can do is wait, and hope, and dream.