Mapping his way
There are no more games. There are no more excursions to the forest. There are no more hunts or contests or pranks. If there are, Endymion doesn't know about them, and he doesn't join in. They've started to wonder why, but to get an answer would require getting him to say more than five words at a time.
That is, unless it's a strategy discussion. Endymion sometimes think his men must wonder if this is a godsend after all, their prince taking the critical issues of the kingdom so seriously. He throws himself into it, and never gives them a chance to ask him about anything else. If they try, they find themselves looking at the back of a white uniform as he quickly makes his way to the next pressing meeting.
He's busy. He's growing into the king they want him to be some day. He has the Kingdom to look after and put first. The prince is never quite rude, but he makes them feel all that distance of rank they never felt before. He's learned the art of giving orders and subtly disallowing them to be questioned. Their master is here, but their friend may have disappeared.
~*~
Endymion frowns over a map. He marks a spot with his finger, and taps it before sliding it along the wrinkled parchment to a new place. This, too, he frowns at thoughtfully. He leans forward in a tall chair set before a large desk in a book-lined study. The window affords a view of sunlit grounds, but he doesn't even glance that way.
Distract him from his brooding? Find out what he's up to?
That is, unless it's a strategy discussion. Endymion sometimes think his men must wonder if this is a godsend after all, their prince taking the critical issues of the kingdom so seriously. He throws himself into it, and never gives them a chance to ask him about anything else. If they try, they find themselves looking at the back of a white uniform as he quickly makes his way to the next pressing meeting.
He's busy. He's growing into the king they want him to be some day. He has the Kingdom to look after and put first. The prince is never quite rude, but he makes them feel all that distance of rank they never felt before. He's learned the art of giving orders and subtly disallowing them to be questioned. Their master is here, but their friend may have disappeared.
~*~
Endymion frowns over a map. He marks a spot with his finger, and taps it before sliding it along the wrinkled parchment to a new place. This, too, he frowns at thoughtfully. He leans forward in a tall chair set before a large desk in a book-lined study. The window affords a view of sunlit grounds, but he doesn't even glance that way.
Distract him from his brooding? Find out what he's up to?