Tension stuffed the court and made it hard to breath, it seemed to the officials there in the western capital. Prince Sutas Fren-Gwimmere Suteras Pnesyufyar was soon to arrive, and someone would take action, if not that time, then the next.
The trumpeter, and the herald to announce him, and then the man himself. Prince Sutas entered, and as always he bore a few of the remarkable artifacts the royal family rarely let leave the southern capital. The Ribbon That Ties, the All-Warding Buckle, and, worst of all, the Unbearable Coat. The captains and courtiers all twitched when they saw it at the periphery of their vision and looked away, or tried to look away.
"Good day, gentleman. We have a great deal yet to do in planning our response to this unfortunate rebellion. I suggest we not stand on ceremony. Though I am a prince, you must all come closer and speak to me directly. Look at me, too. Directly at me." The wide smile he had went unnoticed. The men there saw nothing but the Coat.
"I can't take it! Not another hour!" Colonel Pfalchyre leapt at the prince, hands clawed, and grabbed at the buttons on the Unbearable Coat as the others did all they could to restrain him except the prince himself, who laughed. Yes, he laughed, and if he had been a person of lower rank, he would have been said to guffaw.
"Let me go! I've had enough!"
"Phwa ha ha ha ha! Ha HA ha ha!"
A terrible scene. At the end of it, Pfalchyre stood with the Coat held in his shaking hands, his eyes wide and staring at the future he finally saw for himself. Exile? Execution? Seizure of his estate? How would his children live on, their father disgraced?
"It's decided," Prince Sutas said. "We needed something to draw the rebels out, and you're the man for it, Colonel Pfalchyre. General Pfalchyre, if you survive wearing the Unbearable Coat with a hostile army around. No, no. Even if you don't survive. You're a man who deserves our respect, after all. Aha ha ha ha ha!"
Finis
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