Eagles and Stags (closed)

[Prydania]

OOC notes: This is partially inspired by the fun and excellent thread Royalty in Disguise by @Sil Dorsett and @Goyanes. Give it a read!

Nuevo Antofagosta, Predice

It was an odd trip to be sure, but Tobias was enjoying it so far. He "officially" wasn't in Predice, after all. The Prydanian diplomatic plane that landed was "officially" there to drop off Luscova Pact personnel.

It had, in actuality, been transporting the King of Prydania. A secret trip planned over Twitcher messenger of all things.
So he'd landed, been greeted by members of the Doge's Guard of St. Septimo, and been provided a "rental" car. A rather ordinary looking vehicle.

Tobias looked out his rear window. Plane clothes members of the Doge's Guard followed, and two more were ahead of him. Incognito or not, there was no avoiding the need for security.

Even then though. He was afforded some freedom and peace of mind. He turned on the radio and just enjoyed some music as he glanced to his side. Traffic was slow and a slightly annoyed woman was beside him. She never even looked at him. Tobias chuckled.
Hopefully she wouldn't recognize him even if she did. He kept an old, battered Midland Motors cap- with a mesh back and a worn, frayed, and dirty front- just lowered enough to obscure some of his face.

He loved this cap. It was one of the many things he'd scavenged from the Civil War. It was worn and comfortable too- obviously it had seen a lot of use before Tobias found it- but he rarely had a chance to wear it these days. It was hardly an appropriate hat for royalty. It was perfect, however, for deflecting anyone's casual glances in his direction.

He played with the radio dial. Predice was next to Saintonge. Maybe he could find a Santonian station and get a head's start on getting acclimated to the language?

The whole thing had started with another visit, actually. Princes Timothée-Brice and Thibault-Maximilian of Saintonge had visited Prydania for Oktoberfest. And Tobias had felt slightly embarrassed that he couldn't speak to his cousins in their native language.

He had mentioned this to Vittorio- the Doge of Predice- in a private chat where they discussed hunting. And now he was here in Predice to hunt and learn Santonian.
Technically the learning had begun in Prydania. Alycia and Marc-Thorsteinn Gausserand-Landet had both begun teaching him. Or trying to at least. Santonian was a very different language from the ones he knew. Far less harsh. Both his wife and Thorsteinn had remained optimistic though, with the latter saying he couldn't wait to hear how the King's Santonian would improve when he returned.
Tobias chuckled to himself as he searched for a Santonian station. If only he were that confident. The only Santonian station he could find had, sadly, too much static. He shrugged and settled on a pop music station, his fingers gently drumming along to the beat on the steering wheel, occasionally repeating Santonian phrases that Alycia and Thorsteinn had taught him.

Eventually the unmarked convoy peeled away towards the Doge's residence. The Doge's guard knew of the trip- such a visit required a degree of security precautions- but he and the convoy still entered along the back service entrance to avoid much scrutiny.

The cars parked and Tobias got out, stretching. He'd been stuck in a plane for hours and then in a car. It was good to stretch. He began to unload two duffle bags and a rifle case from the back of the car as the plainclothes Guard of St. Septimo took their positions. He adjusted his cap a bit as he got everything and proceeded to enter.

"Your Majesty" a Guardsman said, greeting Tobias. Tobias was a bit amused at that given that he was wearing worn boots, jeans, a plaid shirt, and a leaf-camo patterned light hunting jacket. He looked less like a king and more like...well...a sveitalubbi*. Still, he'd grown up the rural Austurland. He sort of was in some ways.

"Thank you" Tobias replied in accented Mercanti.

"I'll be taking you to His Most Serene Highness. You are in time for the kitten feeding."

Tobias had to take a moment to process that.
"Pardon me, the...what?"

"The kitten feeding, Your Majesty. This way, please."

Tobias nodded, trying not to look too shocked as he picked up his bags and followed.

---

*sveitalubbi= a Prydanian term meaning hick or redneck, having taken on a pejorative connotation due to Syndicalist use during the Syndicalist Republic era and Civil War

 

[Predice]

In the Palace living room

Vittorio was thinking about the visitor that was coming. He thought about the upcoming hunt, and the Santonian. He also thought about impressing his visitor...
Vittorio gently lowered the little bottle into the kitten's mouth. The kitten began to consume the formula within, contentedly. The other kittens, seeing this, began meowing loudly, wishing to get their portions of formula. Vittorio, with the kittens on his lap, fed the kitten, while the other kittens made playful nibbles.

Vittorio chuckled and muttered: "Stop it kitties!"

Suddenly he heard the voice of his Chamberlain: "Your Grace, Tobias has arrived."

"Ah, bring him in, I must finish feeding the cats." Vittorio said, almost whispering, not wishing to startle the kittens.

Tobias walked into the room, and in accented Mercanti greeted Vittorio

The kittens were visibly frightened by this stranger coming into their presence, and began meowing and squeaking loudly

"Ah, Halló! Don't worry about the Kittens" Vittorio responded, in his best attempt at Prydanian,

"Let me finish feeding the kettlingur*." Vittorio continued.

"Aww Kitties! They're so cute, where'd you get them?" Tobias asked

Vittorio responded with: "Well... their mömmu died, I found them on the street, and adopted them."

Tobias responded: "Awwwwww, how long have you had them?"

"About 4 weeks now, they've been growing a lot." Vittorio stopped for a moment.

"Anyway, the kittens are fed now. Try to let them get used to you. Your scent frightens them. Anyway, Bourbon on the rocks?"



OOC: *Kittens in Prydanian

 

[Prydania]

"Bourbon."
The word wasn't immediately familiar to Tobias. He had to take a moment, especially with Vittorio's heavily accented Prydanian. He wasn't expecting that at all.

He remembered that "bourbon" was a type of whiskey though.
"Yeah, I'd love one" he said in Prydanian, curious how well Vittorio could speak his native language, with a smile as he set his bags down and removed his jacket.

He made his way to the kittens, making sure he wasn't approaching too fast, and sat down on the floor. They'd lost their mömmu like he had.
Tobias rolled up his sleeves and reached out towards one of the kittens slowly. He didn't go to pet its head, seeing that the kitten was pulling back just a bit.

"It's ok" he said softly in Prydanian, "you're ok now" he said as he smiled just a bit.
"I know you miss your mömmu, but Vittorio will take care of you" he said thinking of William for a moment as he held his finger just above the kitten, letting it get used to his scent as it sniffed it and licked it.

"Hehe" Tobias chuckled softly, mindful not to get too loud and startle the creatures, "they're adorable. Do they have names?" he asked as he was able to slightly scratch one on the chin.
"They're so sweet."

He took the bourbon with ice as he sat on the floor and sniffed it for a moment. It had a ever so slightly different sort of smell to it than Prydanian whiskey. How it was different he couldn't say- he wasn't a liquor aficionado. He sipped a bit. It was mostly whisky with that same indescribable different quality. It wasn't bad though, and he sipped some more. Not even thinking much about staying on the floor with the kittens.

"I didn't know you could speak Prydanian" he added, addressing Vittorio. The Doge's Prydanian was far from perfect, but Tobias was curious just what his extent was.
"It's usually not something taught outside of northern Craviter."

 

[Prydania]

Tobias smirked. He had a mischievous idea. Vittorio's Prydanian wasn't that great, so he figured he'd try something. A small test.

"Veðrið virðist kalt en það ætti að vera frábært veiðiveður í fjöllunum" he said as he scratched another kitten's head and leaned back against the chair as he sat on the floor. He studied Vittorio's face, to see how much he understood, or how well he'd be able to respond.

He thought it was curious why Vittorio would attempt to speak Prydanian, though he did appreciate it. Then it occurred to him. He spoke no Predician, and this was a trip to learn Santonian. Which meant that the only language the two could communicate in was Mercanti. And Tobias had heard that the Doge's Mercanti was heavily accented. The funny thing was that his was as well. So it appeared that Vittorio had learnt some Prydanian in an attempt to avoid that.

Tobias smiled. He was honoured, actually. Prydanian was not an easy language to learn for outsiders. Still, he was eager to see how well Vittorio had managed.

---

*Veðrið virðist kalt en það ætti að vera frábært veiðiveður í fjöllunum= The weather seems cold, but it should be excellent hunting weather in the mountains

 

[Predice]

Vittorio simply sat there, smiling and blushing. After an awkwardly long silence, Toby broke it by saying:

"You know what, let's just use Mercanti"

Vittorio almost instantly responded with a quick and somewhat embarrassed sounding "Yeah..."

“How’d you learn Prydanian anyway?” Toby asked, curiously.

“It is a long story. I wanted to read authentic FRE sources during the Prydanian Civil War. So I picked up a dictionary and learned 30 words a day. Eventually got it good enough to read those sources.” Vittorio answered.

“Oh, that’s pretty cool actually!” Toby was impressed.

“Yeah. Clearly it is not good enough to speak but hey...” Vittorio paused.

"Anyway... show me your rifle, I heard it is old, and that you also don't want to spend much on it." he continued

Toby opened the duffle bag, and produced a worn rifle.

"There she is — the SV-Íþróttamaður L42... chambered in .30-.30“ Toby spoke, almost boastingly. The gun had been with him since he was 14. He was very proud of it.

“She looks worn, I know a place where we can get a new finish on her.” Vittorio began.

“Oh no you don’t have to...” Vittorio cut Toby off:

“Oh, I have to, and that bargain bin ammo? That won’t do either, I was expecting this...” He took something out of a drawer

“See, I bought some premium .30-.30. Now let’s go to that gunsmith and get that beaten up girl fixed. How old is she, anyway?”

“I’m not 100% sure actually, but it was probably made in 1936.” Toby answered, trying to think.

“Ah I see...” Vittorio answered, clearly impressed.

“Anyway, since we are going hunting tomorrow, I’ll show you your room, where you can unpack your stuff, and then we can head for that gunsmith, and after that have a bite to eat, whaddya say?” Vittorio asked Toby

“Sounds good! Can’t wait for the food, the closest thing I’ve gotten to Predicean food back home is Zambonis.” Toby said

“Ah Zambonis, they’re excellent. You guys are lucky to have them.” Vittorio responded, proud of his countrymen.

“Anyway, right this way, your room is down the hall and to the left. I have left a small surprise for you there. Unpack, and we’ll get going to the gunsmith.” Vittorio continued, motioning towards the room.

“Alright, gotcha! But maybe if you want to reconsider on the gun...” Toby began, but Vittorio interjected

“No, trust me, you’ll thank me later”

“If you say so!” Toby responded as he headed for the room.

 

[Prydania]

Tobias felt strangely comfortable speaking Mercanti with Vittorio. He rarely felt comfortable speaking it, mostly due to his accent. He didn't even truly feel comfortable while he was helping Jadzia with hers, because she was looking to him for help and he barely felt qualified. Vittorio though...his own skills with the language were about on par with his own. Accented but certainly passable. It helped him feel at ease.

He smiled as he walked with Vittorio. He'd first reached out to him when his father was assassinated. He'd contacted him to express his condolences. He knew what it was like to lose a father, and offered to be there if Vittorio ever needed to talk. They later began conversing through a private messenger on Twitcher. That had turned from sad discussions to happy ones when they began to share about their mutual hobby, hunting.
Tobias found talking to Vittorio rather easy, be it in person or through a private online chat. He was warm, he was friendly.

Tobias stood alone in his room for the next few moments before he began to unpack. He took a seat in a chair and took one of the boxes of amo he'd brought out of one of his bags. It was in a grey-ish brown cardboard box, with the calibre printed on the side in black. It wasn't even brand name. Likely ammunition one of the shops in one of the towns near Skógurheorot sold. The Civil War had led to a lot of people taking up the art of manufacturing their own amo, and now that there was peace well...people sold that skill. Gun and amo stores could sell their own product cheaply. And Tobias had told Laurids to buy "whatever was most affordable."

He took a bullet from the box and held it between his fingers as he looked it over. He'd never treat himself to the premium .30-.30s Vittorio had given him. He took one of those out of his jacket pocket and held it up. The differences were stark now that he had them side by side. The thing about it was that he could afford nicer amo like this...now. He just never thought to buy it. He smiled softly. Vittorio had afforded him something that he'd never have experienced on his own. He tapped the two disparate bullets together.

He thought back to his wife... Alycia was like him in that fate had twisted it so that she didn't have much family. She had her sister Elodie, and that was it...now. And it was more than he had in the way of direct family. He had no one. Together they had each other, and little Baldr and Hael. He smiled thinking about his sons....he'd have to bring them something from Predice.
Beyond that though, Tobias had grown closer with his cousins Timothée and Thibault in Saintonge. He felt a degree of embarrassment and apprehension in admitting it- partially because he had no idea if Timothée and Thibault felt the same way- but they felt like brothers to him. Or at least what he imagined having a brother would feel like.
Vittorio wasn't family like they were but he had treated him like he was. It was a nice feeling.

He set the box of the discount amo down on the dresser and shrugged.
"Guess we won't be using you" he chuckled before heading over to the nightstand. He'd almost missed it, but he saw it as he approached. A book resting atop it, with a pristine, glossy over. It was a Mercanti to Santonian textbook.

"Ha!" he smiled, picking the book up.
"He didn't have to..." he opened the book. It was REALLY new. It was as tight as a book could be while still being readable, and had a "new book smell" to it. The pages were glossy and perfect. He began to scan the first few.
He was ready to set it down when he noticed something printed on the inside cover. It was a table where it had a list for names, year issued, and a box for the condition. He looked at it curiously before he realized what it was. This was a textbook, and that must have been put there for students! He grinned wide. Personal possessions and an actual, proper education. Two things he'd been in short supply of growing up.

He smirked as he dug a pen out of one of his bags and scribbled
"Tobias Scylfing Loðbrók...2020...new"
on the first space for a name.

He tucked the book under his arm as he set a few other things in place before grabbing the rifle case and heading out.

 

[Predice]

Vittorio stood in the hallway, hoping that Tobias liked the gift. He knew, that Tobias had never had a formal education, and thus hoped that a brand new textbook that truly belonged to him and him alone would be significant. As he waited, he prepared for the next day's hunt, gathering a few things: jackets? Check. Tent? Check. MREs? Check. Spare boots and socks? Check. Map and Compass? Check. After assembling a few additional items, he also got his wallet, and arranged for a vehicle to be prepared to go to the gunsmith.
Just as he was finishing up preparations, Tobias exited his room.

"So, did you enjoy the gift?" Vittorio asked, perhaps a little eagerly.

"Yes! I loved it! Thanks so much." Tobias responded.

A smile settled on Vittorio's face. Tobias had enjoyed his gift.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it! Shall we go? I can driv..." Vittorio began, but was cut off

"You Serenity, I'm afraid you can't drive, you just had alcohol." an aide cut in.

"Oh... Right. Well then. Is my driver ready?" Vittorio inquired.

"Yes your serenity, you may go." the aide answered.

"Well then, let's go then, follow me, Toby." Vittorio said.

As they were walking towards the vehicle, and were out of anyone's hearing distance, Toby asked "What was that?", quietly.

"Look. Sometimes I forget... And get a little overeager. Comes with the territory, y'know?" Vittorio responded.

"Gotcha." Tobias responded, somewhat awkwardly.

"Look man, I haven't been able to go hunting for a while, I'm excited" Vittorio said, as they approached the car.

 

[Prydania]

"I understand," Tobias replied with a nod.
"Hunting's always been an escape for me," he continued as he got into the vehicle. He was excited. Predice as a nation had a certain reputation when it came to guns. "Goyanes knows trains, Saintonge knows wine, and Predice knows guns." Tobias was sure he'd heard that somewhere, though he wasn't sure where, admittedly.

He pulled his rifle bag over his lap and unzipped it. He smiled. This had been Axle's. And Axle's father's before that. He ran a hand over the worn finish. Sidorov Pevlovich, the President of Arcanstotska, had actually gifted him a new hunting rifle for his wedding. It was a fantastic weapon to be sure. He and Bjarkar had a great time firing the thing.
Still, it wasn't his rifle. And part of him was a bit saddened that his rifle was going to be different after today. He ran his fingers over the worn wood and metal again, over the Samþættvopn* logo.

Vittorio seemed to pick up on Tobias' sense of sentimentality.
"Trust me," he said reassuringly. The gunsmith will do wonders. It'll still be your rifle. I know what it means to have a connection to your weapon. I wouldn't have it completely replaced. This is far from a case of 'Hróarr's Ship.'"

Tobias chuckled, both because of the reference, and because he was surprised Vittorio knew it.
"You can speak Prydansk, and now you're telling me about Hróarr's Ship. What's next? Steiktsvínakjöt* for lunch?"

"Sure," Vittorio shrugged.
"Why not? There are Prydanian restaurants around. And I've never had a chance to try...what did you call it?"

"Steiktsvínakjöt," Tobias said slowly.
"You really don't have to though..."

"Nah, why not? What better time to try Prydanian food for the first time then with the King of Prydania?"

Tobias chuckled. Vittorio really did want him to feel welcomed.
"Well I hope you like it," he replied.

Vittorio just waved Tobias' concern off.
"A good meal is a good meal," he replied.
"Anyway this is as good a time as any to start. And you brought the book!"

"Oh? Oh yeah," Tobias answered. He'd brought the textbook Vittorio had gifted him.
"Yeah. I didn't know if you wanted to use it or..."

"Well, we'll start easy," Vittorio said as the car started off.
"Bonjour, je m'appelle Vittorio," he said causally. "It means 'hello, my name is Vittorio.' Now you try."

Tobias nodded. He knew "bonjour" well enough.
"Bonjour," he began, "jem appel Tobias...?"

"Close," Vittorio replied.
"'Je m'appelle' means 'my name is,' and you say 'je m'appelle.' The 'm' isn't part of the 'je,' you say as a way to lead into 'appelle.' Which you should put a bit of an extra 'e' on. It's not supposed to have a hard 'l' at the end."

Tobias nodded, trying it again...as Vittorio began his exploration into learning Santonian.

---

*Samþættvopn- meaning "Integrated Weaponry," Prydania's largest arms manufacturer.
*steiktsvínakjöt- a Prydanian dish, crispy fried pork belly

 

[Predice]

After some driving, the vehicle pulled up to an unassuming building, located near the docks.
Vittorio, grabbing the case said "Ah, wait here, I will be right back."
Toby nodded, but he was clearly a little nervous.
"Trust me, you'll love it." Vittorio reassured Toby as he exited the car.
Toby saw Vittorio step into the building.

As Vittorio stepped inside, he was greeted by the man behind the counter: "Hey! Long time no see!"
"Hey Vincenzo! Look, I have a rifle here, I want it polished up a little"
"Ah, let me have a look at it."
Vittorio opened the gun case, and revealed the rifle.
"This is for a very important person."
"I see..." Vincenzo said as he grabbed the rifle
"It has been well maintained. The action works well, and is clean. The barrel is also clean. Only thing I can see is that the body of the rifle itself is worn." Vincenzo said, inspecting it.
"Yes. Do you think you could also strengthen the action? Let it shoot higher pressure rounds?" Vittorio asked.
"Of course. So fix up the exterior, and strengthen the action? That'll be 1,100 piare. It'll be done by the same time tomorrow."
"I'll pay in cash." Vittorio said as he dug out two 500 piara notes and a 100 piara note.
"Have an excellent day!" Vincenzo said as a farewell.
"Bye bye!" Vittorio responded.

Vittorio stepped out of the building and reentered the car.
"So, shall we eat? I am in the mood for some Steiktsvínakjöt"
Toby laughed and said: "That's a pretty good pronunciation! Sure, let's go."

 

[Prydania]

Tobias chuckled.
"You went all the way to Predice, with some of the best food in the world, and you're having steiktsvínakjöt for lunch," he told himself.

"Is everything ok?" Vittorio asked.

"Yeah," Tobias replied, smiling.
"I didn't think there would be any Prydanian restaurants in Predice."

"Well," Vittorio shrugged, some of the Prydanian folks who came over to Saintonge made their way here. It's a small community, but some of the restaurants are quite good from what I hear."

"Wait," Tobias said, thinking.
"If it's run by Prydanians in Predice then they'll know what both of us look like."
He said it sounding worried, but Vittorio laughed.

"Yes, they will. But people can be counted on to keep a secret if you ask them nicely. At least until you're out of the country. Then they can brag about who they served for lunch all day."

Tobias nodded, and he and Vittorio continued with the Santonian lessons. Vittorio began with the concept of definite articles. Tobias had to reference the book he was given a few times. Prydansk had one word for "the," and it was "í." Very simple, and not even used all that often. Not only was the Santonian translation far more common, but it was broken up into male and female variants, "le" and "la." And on top of that...most nouns were just assumed to be masculine or feminine.

"Wait," Tobias said as their car moved down the street, "why is it 'le restaurant' but 'la rue'? Why is restaurant male and street female?"

Vittorio shrugged.
"They just are. There are reasons, but ultimately Santonian nouns are divided between male and female classes. The more you learn the more you'll get used to placing them in the right categories. It'll become second nature."

Tobias raised an eyebrow, unsure about that, but nodded. He began to get the hang of it when Vittorio threw him another curve ball.

"If the noun begins with a vowel then you don't say 'le' or 'la' before it, you say 'l'.'"

Tobias squinted, looking at the handy chart in his book, and seeing it.
"Why does it change if there's a vowel?"

"It's like Mercanti," Vittorio shrugged.
"Like how it's 'a banana,' but 'an apple.'"

"Huh.. that makes sense..."

"And you'll like this. If the noun is plural, you say 'les,' regardless of gender. You really only need to worry about 'le' and 'la' and what gender nouns are if it's singular, and starting with a consonant."

"But then why even bother having 'le' and 'la' if the vowel form and plural form don't bother with the distinction?"

Vittorio laughed. The truth was Predician had many of the same rules Santonian did, being part of the same language family.
"I wish I could tell you, but it is how it is."

Tobias sighed, and nodded before he began practising the sample sentences, with Vittorio helping with his pronunciation. Deep down Tobias wondered what the point of having so many forms of the word "the" was, but he did get the hang of switching between the two in very simple Santonian conversations Vittorio had with him. Eventually, though, the car stopped. Tobias looked around, a bit taken aback before he realized where they were. They were in a back parking lot.

"Best not to roll up in front and make a scene," Vittorio remarked. Tobias smiled a bit.

"You seem to have the process of sneaking around down. You do it often?"

"Look," Vittorio replied matter-of-factly, "sometimes you need to get out a bit." Tobias chuckled.

"There's a Skandan noodle place in Býkonsviði. I tried to sneak in, then they found out who I was, and now they pull out all the stops for me."

"Well get better at sneaking," Vittorio said, smiling.
"Come on, let's go."

Tobias went to leave the car holding his text book when Vittorio shook his head.
"Leave that here. Lunch is for talking, not studying."

Tobias nodded. He felt two ways about it. He was happy he'd get to talk to Vittorio more, without it being tied to learning Santonian. At the same time though, he'd gotten into the flow with the exercises in the text book. He didn't protest though. Instead he just pulled his Midland Motors cap down to obscure his face and stuffed his hands in his camouflage jacket's pockets, following Vittorio out into the street surrounded by plain clothed guards.

The timing was perfect too. It was mid afternoon. After lunch hour, but before people would be coming in for dinner. The restaurant was empty, but the smells certainly took Tobias home. It wasn't just one thing, but a few smells he recognized. Including the sweet smells of the pastries behind a glass case. His nervousness melted, smelling this little slice of home.
He looked over to his left, at a fridge filled with pop cans. Toki's cans of various flavours mixed in with local Predician pops and Santonian Vin Mariane cans. His eyes then went to a wall mounted picture of what looked like a scene of the Pale Sea from a Fölurpunktur coast line. The painting of a slightly choppy sea against the green hills and the grey sky made him smile even more. His tranquility only broken by....

"Guð minn góður*," an older man said standing behind the counter.

"Hvað er það, pabbi*?" a younger woman asked, only to freeze in place when she saw who her father had seen.

Tobias looked up and blushed. It was clear that they recognized him. He was staring at them as they were staring at him. He went to speak before Vittorio interrupted.

"Hello," the Doge said in accented Mercanti with a smile.
"My friend and I need a quiet place to enjoy a late lunch. He's here for a visit, but we want to avoid all the craziness. Could we have lunch here? Just the two of us? You'll be compensated for having to temporarily close the restaurant while we're here, I promise you."

Tobias chuckled at how confident Vittorio was. He just addressed them like the King of Prydania and Doge of Predice coming in for lunch was a normal thing.
The owner of the restaurant and his daughter looked at each other and then to Vittorio, and then to Tobias, and back to Vittorio.

"Your Grace," the older man said, his Mercanti having a strong Prydanian accent, like Tobias'.
"We would..." he tried to find the words, before his daughter finished his sentence for him.

"We would be honoured, to serve both Your Grace and Your Majesty," she said, before looking to her father with a smile.
"And we won't say a word..."

"I leave in a few days," Tobias replied.
"You can tell anyone you'd like after that, I just...I just wanted to come in and get some hunting done with the media and everything...." he said as his heart raced a bit, before nervously adding "thank you," to what he was saying.

"It's um...it's...it's an honour. And not a problem, Your Majesty," the man replied.
"My...my name is Neisti Gamst. This is Ólafía, my daughter."

Tobias smiled, walking up to the counter.
"It's my pleasure," he said as he held out his hand. They each shook as the King grinned.
"Look...this is a bit awkward for us too, so um...I know it's a lot, but really. Thank you again."

"I mean...I didn't think I'd see the Doge and King in our shop when I woke up today," Ólafía replied with a sheepish smile.

Tobias chuckled and decided to break the awkwardness. He pointed at the painting he noticed.
"That's somewhere in Fölurpunktur, já?" he asked.

"Já, Your Majesty," Neisti replied, seeming a bit looser.
"That's where we're from. A small town named Myrr, on the Tana River. It's a fishing village, that's a painting of the shore, looking north."

"That's outside of Leiolfsstaoir," Tobias replied, smiling slightly.

"Já, Your Majesty," Ólafía nodded excitedly.
"You know it?"

"I have a friend from Leiolfsstaoir," Tobias replied.
"It's a beautiful spot. The ocean looks like it goes on forever, you know, on a stormy day."

Neisti grinned.
"It is..." he said with a sense of longing.

Tobias ended up spending half an hour speaking with them. They were from Myrr, Neisti was a butcher by trade. His wife, Ólafía's mother, was drafted into a tractor factory in Hadden in 2006 by the Syndicalist government. It was the last they saw of her. Apparently she had proven to be too much of a "reactionary element," and they had her killed. A member of the local Syndicalist Council got word that the Militia would be coming for them, and tipped Neisti off. He'd taken his young daughter and applied for sanctuary at the Santonian consulate in Leiruvagr. They'd moved onto Predice in 2012, when the opportunity to open his own restaurant presented itself.

Vittorio watched with a sense of calm, finding it nice how Tobias and his compatriots shared stories, injecting now and then to ask a question about this or that. And then his stomach growled, and he laughed.
"Oh right, lunch!"

"What can...I mean...what will you be having Your Majesty? Your Grace?" Ólafía asked.

"I'll have the steiktsvínakjöt," Tobias said happily.

"I really don't know Prydanian cuisine..." Vittorio mused, and Tobias chuckled.

"Hann mun taka matseðil*," Tobias said with a smile as Neisti handed the Doge of Predice a menu.

Tobias and Vittorio sat down in a table as Neisti turned the signed from "APERTO*/OPPIN*" to "CHIUSO*/LOKAÐ*" and Ólafía brought them each a glass of water.

"So," Vittorio asked.
"Does this place smell like a Prydanian kitchen?"

"Sort of...it smells like a kitchen on Christmas. You know, going into overdrive."

"Ah," Vittorio replied, before looking at the menu as their guards took seats the other tables.
"Wow...how many ways can you people prepare pork?" he asked as he read the menu. Tobias began to laugh and shrugged.

"I don't know, how many ways can you kill a pig and cook the parts? We've probably done all of it. Steiktsvínakjöt is the big one though. It's the national dish, and what you have to celebrate something important. If you don't want pork though..." he took the menu from Vittorio and pointed to a spot.
"There."

"Lobster roll?" he asked.

"Yep. A proper lobster roll," Tobias said with a smile.

"It's nothing like those monstrosities they make in Valland, is it?" Vittorio asked, prompting Tobias' smile to change into a frown as he got very serious for a moment.

"What the Vallish have done to lobster rolls is nothing short of an assault on a proud Prydanian culinary tradition."

Vittorio didn't know what to say, but then Tobias' stern, serious visage cracked into a smile and he began to laugh. Vittorio laughed too, and Tobias finally nodded.
"You should try it though. It's good. Much better than the Vallish ones. A good Prydanian lobster roll is only lobster, butter, and a toasted bun."

"Good... I hate chives," Vittorio remarked before getting up to place an order for a lobster roll.

"So," Vittorio asked as they waited for their food.
"I have a question."

"Já?" Tobias asked between sips of water.

"You could have come here just to hunt. We'd have had a great time doing that, I think."

"I do too," Tobias replied with a smile. He and Vittorio had spent a fair bit of time messaging each other privately over Twitcher as they discussed hunting and shooting tips.

"But instead you're here to hunt and learn Santonian."

Tobias nodded.
"It's like I told you over Twitcher. I want to be able to speak Santonian. So I can talk to my cousins in it."

"You speak Mercanti, they speak Mercanti..."

"Yeah, I'm speaking Mercanti right now," Tobias chuckled.
"You can't hear this thick Austurland Prydansk accent?"

"No more than this Predician accent," Vittorio replied with a smile.
"But you speak it well enough. Timothée-Brice and Thibault-Maximilian speak Mercanti. You don't need to learn Santonian to talk to them."

Tobias shrugged as he sipped more water.
"Well...I feel like I should learn Santonian."

"Any reason why?"

Tobias raised an eyebrow. Vittorio could be rather direct. Not in a mean way, or even a demanding way. He just tended to cut to the chase.
"I..." Tobias began, biting the inside of his lip and looking down for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking back up.
"I feel like I owe it. To them."

"Because of what Saintonge did for Prydanian refugees," Vittorio replied, again in a frank and direct manner.

"No...I mean..." Tobias replied before breathing deep again.
"I mean I guess, yeah. That's also a good reason. Mostly though, they've shown me nothing but kindness since the day I met them. I always wanted siblings you see. I think my mamma and pabbi, well I think they were afraid that if they had any more kids it would be more people for my uncle to toy with. I always wanted siblings though. And they just...they feel like brothers to me. I know it sounds silly..."

"I don't think so," Vittorio shruged.
"Look, Tobias. I know what it is you went through. Well, enough of it. Maybe not everything. I was lucky to have a safe haven, you weren't, but I know what it's like to feel like the walls are closing in and there's no daylight."

Tobias nodded, listening. His heart was fluttering. He was captivated by what Vittorio was saying though.
"And you wanted family in a time like that. I don't blame you. Your cousins though, are kind. And they care for you. It's not silly for you to think of them in brotherly terms."

Tobias nodded as he traced some condensation on his glass of water with his thumb.
"Thanks," he said with a slight smile.
"I want to show them, that I appreciate it. Learning Santonian, so I can speak to them in their language, is a way for me to do that."

"Well," Vittorio said happily.
"You're in good hands with me," he grinned.
"Say," he continued, "when was the last time you saw Timothée-Brice and Thibault-Maximilian?"

"It was Oktoberfest," Tobias replied.
"They came to Prydania to experience it. I don't know if they knew what to think of it," he chuckled, "but it was fun. We played some football."

"Football? You play?" Vittorio asked.

"Já," Tobias replied with a nod.

"I assumed the King of Prydania would be a hockey guy," Vittorio said, with a curious look. Tobias just shrugged.

"I like hockey well enough," he said.
"But during the War we couldn't just play hockey. You need ice, you need a rink. We could always play football though. I grew up loving it."

"And Prydania won gold in men's football at the Odinspyl!" Vittorio added.

"That was so cool," Tobias replied grinning ear to ear.
"The Knights of the Storm wouldn't let me wear a viking helmet hat for the game though. They said the tv cameras would be on our box."

"Ah, whatever," Vittorio replied.
"So you and your cousins played some football?"

"Yeah, we did," Tobias nodded.

"What kind of football can you play with three people?" Vittorio asked.

"Three strikers," Tobias added.

"Oh even better," Vittorio chuckled.
"I wish I had seen this."

"No you don't," Tobias shook his head laughing.
"Just because you're a fan of something doesn't make you good at it. None of us were lighting the pitch on fire, I'll tell you that much. We had fun though," he said with a content smile on his face. It was clear to Vittorio that Tobias enjoyed his time with his Santonian cousins.
"Hunting's more my sport," Tobias added.

"Same," Vittorio replied.
"But don't worry. We'll hunt, and I'll have you conversing in Santonian in no time."

"Your Grace, Your Majesty," Neisti said as he approached with the food, with Ólafía in tow.
"It's my honour to serve you both. I wish you a pleasant lunch, and..." he turned to Tobias, "I hope you enjoy Predice, Your Majesty. It's a lovely country that has been like a second home to my family."

"I'm glad," Tobias said softly.
"And thank you."

Tobias and Vittorio were ready to begin eating when Vittorio looked a bit bemused.
"The lobser roll looks good," he said.
"It's not much though. Just one sandwhich."

"Yes well..." Tobias began, "I suspected that might be the case. See, steiktsvínakjöt is the celebratory food, like I said. Meaning you tend to get a lot of it..." he pointed to the stuffed basket of fried pork stomach before him.

"So..." he took some steiktsvínakjöt and a few of the potatoes served with it, and put it into Vittorio's basket with his lobster roll.
"You're going to help me, because I can't finish this all by myself."

"Heh," Vittorio chuckled.
"Well, is there something Prydanians say? Before eating?"

"Yes," Tobias replied. He held his cup of water up and Vittorio did the same. Tobias clanked his glass against Vittorio's.
"Ralt!" he exclaimed.

"Ralt!" Vittorio replied.

And with that they enjoyed a rather late, but tasty, lunch.

---

*Guð minn góður- Oh my God
*Hvað er það, pabbi?- What is it, dad?
*Hann mun taka matseðil- He'll take a menu
*APERTO- OPEN
*OPPIN- OPEN
*CHIUSO- CLOSED
*LOKAÐ- CLOSED

OOC Note: Thanks to @Kyle for helping me with Timothée-Brice and Thibault-Maximilian's football proclivities

 

[Predice]

“Thanks so much guys, I am so full. Hardy food this.”

He began to take a cigar but he was interrupted:

“Sir, please, outside.”

“Ah, of course, my bad. Toby, you want some, this is the primo stuff.”

“Nah, I don’t smoke.”

“Suit yourself.”

Vittorio headed outside, and lit up his cigar, a post-meal tradition of his.

Toby’s voice quickly made its way to his ear:
“So, where next?”

“Well I want to have a nap after this meal. This is a heartier lunch than I would usually have. Tell ya what? I’ll have a nap, and I can introduce you to some wines.”

“Sounds good.”

“I can teach you Santonian over wine. Nothing more authentic than that.”

“You know it.”

“Alright, let’s head back”

The men reboarded the cars, and the drive back to the palace began.

“So, you ever feel... weird living in a huge ass palace after having spent most of your life moving around?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. I’m still not quite 100% comfortable with it. It feels... weird, y’know?”

“Oh yeah, all of the royal work is probably unbearable as well, yeah?”

“Well... I cannot stand all of the politicking involved. I’m just like... say how it is, stop telling me these lies...”

“I know just how you feel... but sometimes you have to use many words to say nothing at all, comes with the job, and we can’t really change jobs can we.”

“Yeah, true that. Wouldn’t do it even if I could. Too many people died to put me to the throne. I would be betraying all of their wishes.”

“See I never wanted this job. It was always my intention to bypass myself in favour of my daughter.”

Vittorio falls into thought for a moment

Unfortunately circumstances... have not allowed for that. It’s not all that bad though.”

“I get you on that. Some fun things come with the gig. I get to hang out with my Santonian family... and you.”

“You flatter me.”

Vittorio laughs.

“The only Royal job I wouldn’t take is King of Regunalia. They’re no better than Anders.”

Toby sighs.

“Last I heard, they were up to some shenanigans in Stakhr.”

“It’s some bs.”

“Yeah. Regunalia is a place I too wouldn’t want to be a Royal. It’s an upstart monarchy which tries wayyyy too hard.”

“Stig tells me horror stories.”

“Anyway, less scary topics... hunting.”

“Ah, right, about that, where we going hunting?”

“I own some forest to the north, that’s where I hunt, generally, we can fish there, too.”

“Ah, interesting.”

“There’s no cabins or anything there. It’s where I go to get away for a few days.”

Vittorio says, yawning.

“Ah, wonderful, sleeping under the night sky is really calming.”

“Speaking of sleeping, we’re back, and I’m going to go for a nap. If you really need anything, feel free to wake me up.”

“Alright, enjoy your nap.”

 

[Prydania]

Tobias loved having a new forest to hunt in. The fact was that he knew the forests of Austurland and Skógurheorot like the back of his hand. He'd grown up there after all. They'd been his refuge.
But hunting wasn't just something he’d learned to do out of necessity, it was something that brought him a sense of serenity and peace of mind that few things did.

And a new challenge- a terrain he didn't know- filled him with what could only be described as pure joy.

Vittorio noticed it. The young Prydanian King was humble to the point of awkwardness at times. One might assume he felt slightly out of place due to the clandestine nature of this trip necessitating he dress as a civilian, but Vittorio got the sense it was the dress he was comfortable in. It was the royal pomp that he felt unsure of.
But out here? He seemed very relaxed, alive, and focused. He was happy to see it. His relation to the Prydanian King was distant, yes, but he was still family. And he was family who’d gone through something Vittorio himself could relate to.

The sun wasn't quite ready to set, but the day was closer to ending then it was to starting. They were both camped out behind a rocky ridge on a very gentle slope along a forested mountainside, when Vittorio went to grab something…

“Fuck, I forgot my spare water.”

Tobias just reached into his pack and tossed him his.

“Oh come on I can't take your water.”

“Don't worry about it,” Tobias replied as he reset his sites.

“What are you going to drink?”

“I’m prepared.”

Vittorio chuckled. He'd read the FRE reports but they didn't give a full picture. No doubt Tobias had learned some survival skills but why risk anything? But it was the Prydanian King who answered Vittorio’s unpsoken question.

“I have a portable water purifier and an empty bottle,” he said as he didn't break his gaze down his sites.

“Ah always prepared eh?”

“I learned that it really, REALLY sucks to not have it,” Tobias said, the pause after the last word hanging in the air and punctuated by a shot that rang out through the countryside.

“Nice shot!” Vittorio complemented but Tobias chuckled.

“It's not as big as the buck you bagged earlier.”

“It's not a competition,” Vittorio replied, and Tobias blushed a bit but chuckled.

“Your gun guy's really good. I thought for sure I’d have to realign my sites and get used to the gun all over again,” Tobias added as he slung his rifle over his shoulder.

“Oh he's excellent. He knows that every gun is the way it is for a reason. He can do magic and make it feel like he's changed nothing at all, all at once,” Vittorio beamed.

It wasn't that Tobias couldn't have gotten his old rifle fixed up. The War in Prydania was over. He had access to his family's wealth now. He easily could… but that was the key. Now. He had it now. He clearly didn't feel comfortable spending it. And Vittorio was happy to give him the gift.

And Tobias reached back to run his hand over his retouched rifle. It really was excusite how this gun he loved so much seemed to be reborn.

But right now they had a deer to field dress.

---

The sun was setting, the moons were out, and the fire was burning warmly. Vittorio munched on jerky as Tobias prepared some… well he called it dampari.

“Ok I get the flour, salt, water, and butter… but you're wasting perfectly good beer!” Vittorio laughed as Tobias worked around the campfire.

“A Prydanian,” Tobias replied smiling, still focused on his task, “does not waste beer.”
“You’ll like it, I promise.”

Vittorio watched as Tobias wrapped his mixture in tinfoil and used a stick to set it down in the ashes at the base of the fire.
He could see what was being done, it was a quickbread of some kind. But it was whether it was any good or not he was curious about!

“Ok done. We’ll let it sit for a while,” Tobias said as he took off his jacket and set it aside as he rested his head against his pack and rested, looking up at the starry sky.

“You know,” Vittorio said, munching on more jerky, “you tan well for a northerner.”

“Eh?”

Vittorio chuckled.
“I’m just saying. Most northerners who come down to Mettera aren't used to the sun. They go from pale to burned like a lobster. But you tan well.”

“Oh!” Tobias shrugged as he lay next to the fire.
“I guess… I never got sunburned as a kid.”

Vittorio nodded and looked up at the sky.
“Do you stargaze much?”

“Heh,” Tobias smiled.
“All the time. Frustrated the hell out of Will. He thought it meant I’d be into astronomy and easy to teach. Turned out I didn't give a fok… I just thought the constellations made good stories. And when I saw an aurora for the first time….” he trailed off.

“Yeah?”

Tobias paused for a minute. Could he share this? It sounded silly. Very silly. He usually kept this stuff to himself but… he decided to trust Vittorio.

“It was like my grandpabbi was smiling at me.”

Vittorio didn't say anything for a moment… he just nodded. He just… thought on that before finally speaking.

“I see my father all over…”
He paused just to collect himself. He wasn't on the verge of tears but… he needed to gather himself.
“I can go days… months even… being perfectly fine. And then just like that, I see him everywhere.”

Tobias sat up, pulling his legs close to his chest and nodded. He wasn't sure what to say, really. He’d lost loved ones… and often… just being with friends or family to make the hard times easier was enough. He hoped that, at the very least, he could do that for Vittorio.

Vittorio smiled softly. He knew how to break the mood for the better. He tossed Tobias another beer.
“Since you used your last one to leven our bread.”

Tobias chuckled and popped the can open and Vittorio raised his.

“To the people looking down on us from above!”

“Ralt!” Tobias added, with a traditional Nordic toast, as he raised his beer can. The two drank and Vittorio’s gaze turned upward.

“So you mentioned you liked constellations?”

“Well I mean I was told about them, and how they had stories attached to them. It seemed nice, to imagine something… I guess… sublime happening? Something unfolding in the peaceful night sky compared to everything else.”

“Well it's kind of romantic? Your wife’s sigil is the worlf,” Vittorio pointed up.
“And there's the stag, yours. They're not that far apart.”

Tobias chuckled and nodded.
“That's true! But before I ever met Alycia I used to think about the stag…” he pointed up, “and the lion. Dancing.”

“Dancing?” Vittorio asked.

“In Prydania we have a story about the stag and the lion dancing,” Tobias answered.
“It's said the lion will fly away, but the stag always follows.”

“Wait, how does a lion fly?”

Tobias smiled.
“I don't know why, but in Prydania,” he explained as he pointed to the lion constellation, “the lion has wings. We connect those stars to the lion’s body, see?”

“Oh…” Vittorio mused.
He'd never… actually thought of it like that. But there were stars that fit that description.
“I’ve never seen anyone describe it like that before.”

“I was surprised when I found out we’re one of the few countries where we do it. But the lion has wings, and he dances with the stag. When the dance begins it's time to start planting… but when the lion flies off…” Tobias moved his hand as he pointed…
“Then it's time to start the harvest. And it's time to celebrate when the stag follows. And then when it's time to start planting again…”

“The stag and lion peak back out above the horizon,” Vittorio said, completing the sentence.

“Yeah…” Tobias replied.
“And speaking of the harvest…”

He grabbed a stick and moved the tinfoil wrapped mixture from the fire and used two knives from his belt to pry the tinfoil away.

“Ah that smells good.”

“Dampari you call it?”

“Já,” Tobias nodded.
“Hearth bread. You make it when you're huntin’. I ate this stuff all the time growin’ up. You don't strictly need butter or beer to make it but trust me… you’ll be glad I added it,” he chuckled as he used his knives to cut into the bread. He pulled a piece of the edge of his knife and handed it to Vittorio.

The Doge took it and looked it over. It was flakey, almost scone like?

Tobias began eating some of his so Vittorio ate some too.

“It's kind of plain.”

“Já it fills you up though,” Tobias replied, pulling his piece in half and sticking some jerky between them. He began to hum as they ate.

“What's that?” Vittorio asked.

“Oh,” Tobias replied with a mouthful. He swallowed and washed it down with some beer.

“It's a song. I donno, it seems nice and fittin’ for a night like this.”

“Could you share it?”

Tobias smiled at that but thought for a moment.
“Do you want it in the Prydanian?”

Vittorio laughed.
“I'm not that well versed in it. That would just be cruel.”

Tobias chuckled and nodded, and began to sing in Mercanti.

“Wander my friends, wander with me,” he began, before looking up at the sky again.

“Like the mist on the green mountain, moving eternally…despite our weariness, we'll follow the road. Over hills and valleys, to the end of the journey.”

He grinned looking at Vittorio.

“Come on my friends and sing with me, fill the night with joy and sport. Here's a toast to the friends who have gone from us, like the mist of the green mountain, forever gone.”

He raised his can of beer again and took another drink.

It was… a nice melody. Weary but hopeful. Vittorio listened and when Tobias finished he waited a moment and then began again.

“Wander my friends, wander with me…”

And the two sang into the night.

---

OOC Notes: Posted with the approval of @Predice. A big thanks to @Kyle for making a list of Eras constellations!