King Ramsey
King Ramsey stood in front the table that was placed in the middle of his sleeping tent, the camp that his army had set up weeks prior to the charge against King Haywood's castle was rather large, spread out in a three mile radius in every direction his great tent sat in the middle of the large siege camp, soldiers, engineers, and squires went about their business outside of the mixed gold and green fabrics that represented his houses colors.
King Ramsey uncapped the stylized whiskey bottle that was sat on the table before quickly filling up two glasses of whiskey sat next to the bottle. Once each glass was full he capped the whiskey bottle and set it aside, sliding over a glass of whiskey to a patron at the other end of the table, a large map sat in between them. Taking his own glass of whiskey he pulled up a chair and sat himself down with a small grunt, King Ramsey was beginning to age, although still rather young his body was very slowly beginning to reach its ending point. War and politics did that to a man. His black combed down hair was beginning to gray and his twirled mustache was fading of color but his face still showed mature aspects and now forming wrinkles began to compliment his wisdom and power.
"You set up an impressive camp," the man sat across from King Ramsey spoke, a foreign accent escaping his throat as he did so, a smile on his lips. King Ramsey laughed and gulped down his glass of whiskey, coughing softly as he swallowed down the coarse alcohol. "My father trained the best," the King spoke, refilling his glass as he waited a response from the younger man.
The younger man across from King Ramsey was undoubtedly King Gavin Free, although more commonly know as the "King of Fools." King Gavin was the second of the youngest kings, only a year older than the "King of Roses" in a far distant land. His face was young and admirable, old age was not shown on his face and the only thing complimenting anything was his nose, which showed how stubborn, headstrong and foolish he could be with the size of it. He had wild, brown hair that sprouted in all different directions, unkempt and uncombed although seemingly remarkably clean and sophisticated in a way. A small, boyish beard and mustache sat on his chin.
"Bloody hell, he did a fantastic job didn't he?" he spoke loudly, the foreign accent appearing again as he looked around the massive tent he sat in, the only thing sat in the room was a bed, a desk, and the table they sat on, although every piece of furniture seemed to have a glass of alcohol nearby it.
"Well. My father was the one true king." King Ramsey mused, gulping down what seemed to be his fourth glass of whiskey already although he seemed to be far from hammered with the amount of alcohol in him. "Now. You mentioned you would with your own army? Where are they?"
King Free laughed obnoxiously, lifting up his untouched drink. "Oh, they're going to arrive soon. I promise! They're just slow." he said, sipping once from his drink before slamming it onto the table, alcohol flying out and splashing on the map in between them. "Oh yes! I should go and check up on them, cheerio!" he yelled before sprinting off suddenly, not a word being able to escape King Ramsey to go against his rather sudden change of plans. He grumbled softly and lifted an empty glass of whiskey to his lips only to realize instantly the mistake, slamming his empty glass onto the table before reaching over for his escaped guest drink, chugging it down quickly.