POOL

He looked down at the creature before his feet, it's eyes glued to his feet.

"Can my feet talk, peasant?" Pool demanded. "Hmm? My feet must be pretty interesting to keep your attention so."

The peasant made a nasal whimpering sound when he spoke. "Ehh, no m'lord. I-I h-h-had a-"

Pool interrupted him. "You are still staring at my feet, peasant. Look into my eyes."

The peasant looked up slowly, until his eyes met with Pool's. They were blue grey, and not kind at all.

"Now tell me, peasant, what is this message you have?"

"There are pirates, m-m'lord. All along the coast they are. Master of Underhold sent me, he did. Told me to tell you they are stealin' all the food."

Pool sat for a moment and thought. The 'pirates' had been a plague to him for several years now, though he wouldn't call them pirates, no. He had been to war in a foreign land filled to the brim with jungles and pirates. Pirates from the jungle wore eyepatches, danced and sang songs. Pirates from this hellhole do nothing but frown and silently scowl.

"What would Lord Hullander have me do about it?"

"S-send men to scare them off, m'lord."

"Send men?" Lord Hullander had not been seen anywhere near the capital in months. Pool blamed it on the fact he had lost his daughter to a duel with a lower lords son. She was to be wed off to some low family, live the rest of her days away from her father, bear children whose names will never be known by anyone. Such a sad fate, thought Pool, smirking to himself.

He was reminded of his conversation with the peasant when someone in the court abruptly coughed. "Why should I?" He continued. "Lord Hullander hasn't attended court in over four months. Explain."

"Me? I haven't a clue m'lordship. I-I'm only here to deliver a-"

Pool stood up, his head throbbing. "Sylas, take over for me, I need to rest."

"As you bid, my Lord." Salas said merrily.

Pool made his way up the stairs, into his room. A servant waited by his door and began to open it when he went up to it.

"I can open the damn door myself, boy." He grumbled, pulling the door open.

The door shut behind him and he walked over to his balcony, staring outside. Disgusting, thought Ppol. What a waste I command. All he could see for miles was hoarse rock and mold, as well as a scrappy house here and there. Directly below his balcony he could see house after house stacked against Castle Hardwind.

The world was broken here, most knew. Few wanted land here, and even fewer wanted to rule any.

Pool rubbed his grayish skin against the stone, an itch running up his arm. My skin is grey and dead, just like this land.

He walked over to his bed and fell into it, exhausted. It had been a long year past. The spring had been cold, the summer fruitless. In the fall a disease struck, and the frigid winter didn't help. Now it was spring again and the weather had been warmer, but Pool was not so hopeful.

He stood up, shuffling his way to his bathroom. He looked into the mirror there. His hair was long and whispy and silver. His eyes were faded, his skin grey. They must think I'm a zombie, the way I look.

"A zombie king, for a wasteland. Poetic, isn't it Jeeves?" Pool turned to the doorway, a small cake dressed in a tuxedo standing there.

"Yes, sire. Indeed." Pool had found him wandering around a shipwreck near the Red Coast, several winters before last. Supposedly he was from a land to the east where candy talked and heroes wandered.

His master of the kitchens had suggested that since he could regenerate, they could skin him weekly for food over the winter. Pool wouldn't hear of it, though he still feels them eyeing Jeeves to this day.

Pool waved him into his bathroom, and Jeeves ran him a bath. The cakeling was an expert in the art of oils and soaps. Pool dismissed him, shutting the door.

He sat in his bath, and thought, pondering on the future of Castle Hardwind. First things first, he decided. The pirates must be removed before they cause my food ships any trouble.

He reached for a cloth the scrub his face, but instead found a leg. He flung back startled, and standing up, he cried "Who the-"

"My grace." A woman in black leather purred. "I am Mila."

Pool covered himself, blushing. "What are you doing in my bathroom?" He asked as casually as he could muster.

"I'm here to kill you." She said pulling back her cloak, revealing a sheathed dagger.

"Well I know that. But why my bathroom? Why not somewhere else?"

She smiled, staying silent.

"Naughty, aren't you little girl?" That made her mad.

"I am not a little girl," She said it calmly enough, but her breathing gave her away. "I am Mila, of house-"

"I don't care who's house you're from," Pool grinned. "Just get it done and over with if you would."

"Fine. Say your last words, king of the wastes."

"You're very beautiful." He smiled. That startled her, but not for long. She unsheathed her dagger, and lunged at him. He dodged it swiftly and, moving behind her, slapped her thigh.

"You have nice legs," He laughed "Do you have a boyfriend?"

She was angry now. "Shut your mouth, man-pig!" She lunged again, and this time he slapped her butt when he dodged. She let out a little shout when he did.

"Damn you!" She growled. "You are sad if you think you would ever have a chance with me."

"I'm just glad to have you here, my lady." More glad he had increased his bathroom's size last summer. He would've never of been able to dodge her in what it was previously.

"Not a mutual feeling," She said, annoyed, as she lunged at him once more. Her knife barley nicked his belly, reminding he was completely naked in front of a woman with a knife.

"I should tell you about the last time I was in a bathroom with a woman."

"No, you truly shouldn't."

"She had a knife too, nearly cut my balls off-"

"Enough!" She stabbed at him again, cutting his upper chest wide open. He cried out in pain and held himself, wrapping both his arms around. Dark red blood spilled onto the tile floor, splattering everywhere. He looked up at her, and she gave him a look up triumph.

"Good riddance, waste-lord." She said, raising her dagger above her head. He began to laugh, loudly, rasping.

"Stop that." She demanded. "Stop laughing." He fell onto his knees, still laughing.

"STOP LAUGHING!" She screamed.

He stopped laughing, and wiped a tear from his eye. "I-I'm sorry it's just that... it tickled."

He stood up quickly, tackling her down. She hit the floor, her head smashing into the tile. He sat on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground..

"Beg forgiveness." He said quietly. "Now."

She squirmed. "Never." He punched her in the face, making a cut open in her forehead.

"Beg forgiveness."

"No." He did it again, this time making sure to hit her mouth.

"Beg. Forgiveness."

"You hit like a girl."

"I am now. Do you want me to hit like a man instead?"

She struggled, trying to get her arms out from under his legs. "You couldn't if you wanted to." She spat at him.

He smashed a fist down onto her face as hard as he could, knocking her out.

"Well now that that's over with, I can finish my-"

He didn't remember being hit, or waking up for that matter. He looked around his bed, the doctors all staring at him intently.

"My lord you have received a blow to the head, quite hard by the looks of it." The doctor said.

Pool sat up. His head didn't throb. He touched his forehead and moved his fingers along the surface.

"M-my lord! It is an open wound, it-"

Pool held his other hand up, silencing him while his other hand still moved along his scalp, preening for wounds.

"Aha!" Blackwood gasped, tearing out a small shard of glass out of his head. "I knew I felt something."