Post by Roman Glabrio on Aug 28, 2011 0:50:06 GMT -5
Roman ground his teeth as the automobile jerked on the uneven dirt road. Potholes. Never ending potholes. If his mind, and his decorum, were not essential to his nature and position, he could almost lose them both in a spectacular display of frustration. The ride seemed to be lasting longer than Glinda's dress.
Focusing on the slim book in his hands, he tried to project his mind into the tangled foreign sounding English world of Shakespeare. Ophelia had just died, the lovelorn sop, and Hamlet had been shipped off to be murdered. Altogether, it was a fascinating read and he found himself hoping that the Uncle truly would murder his ungrateful little brute of a nephew and show some spine. Surely his new wife's reaction to the murder of her son would be preferable to making the rest of the Family...the kingdom...suffer anymore with Hamlet's delusions and murders. Still, he had been told it was a tragedy and Shakespeare's other tragedies tended to kill off the title characters so there was hope yet.
He was banged against the side and his driver muttered a curse in front of him. If hadn't been such a gentleman, Roman would have left the red convertible with his pregnant wife in the City and taken the black automobile. But Cinzia had a doctor's appointment and was in no condition to be raced and banged about.
Roman wiped some of the road dust from his face and tried to picture the fictitious Queen's dripping garb as she relayed the details of Ophelia's suicide. A sharp clunk from below confirmed that he was going to have to pay attention to the road or risk being thrown out of the vehicle altogether.
"Nomes below," He cursed, "Why can't the queen live in a place with decent roadways?"
"I don't know sir." Billings, his driver, righted his dark cap on his head and stared forward intently. Billings was new to his employ, a grocer who's debt to the Family had grown great enough for him to lose his shop and take work with them for little pay, and he seemed competent enough. Roman had been careful not to let him handle money though. He might be desperate and stupid enough to steal...or, at the very least, he would lost that money too.
"It was rhetorical." Roman replied dryly, looking at relief at the guard post ahead.
"Stars," Billings sighed, and pulled the automobile over to be searched.
Roman greeted the soldiers with a smile, his identity card and returned to his play as they searched his trunk in the back. Naturally, he had a concealed weapon, tucked in the car's very engine, but if they could find it, he deserved to be interrogated. He wouldn't be executed--maybe during Azka-D's reign--but not under Ozma's. Ozma did things in a gentler way. She had forgiven her own captor, her daughter, so a poor old man with a mysterious gun would hardly be treated too harshly.
The car passed the search and Billings drove them to the front gate. Roman collected his briefcase and nodded to Billings meaningfully to retrieve the weapon. One couldn't be too careful. Especially since Nomes were rumored to be attending Ozma's coronation.
As Roman ascended the house's great steps, he saw someone coming out and waved at them. "Excuse me," He smiled warmly, "I am here for the coronation. Could you help me locate my rooms?"
Focusing on the slim book in his hands, he tried to project his mind into the tangled foreign sounding English world of Shakespeare. Ophelia had just died, the lovelorn sop, and Hamlet had been shipped off to be murdered. Altogether, it was a fascinating read and he found himself hoping that the Uncle truly would murder his ungrateful little brute of a nephew and show some spine. Surely his new wife's reaction to the murder of her son would be preferable to making the rest of the Family...the kingdom...suffer anymore with Hamlet's delusions and murders. Still, he had been told it was a tragedy and Shakespeare's other tragedies tended to kill off the title characters so there was hope yet.
He was banged against the side and his driver muttered a curse in front of him. If hadn't been such a gentleman, Roman would have left the red convertible with his pregnant wife in the City and taken the black automobile. But Cinzia had a doctor's appointment and was in no condition to be raced and banged about.
Roman wiped some of the road dust from his face and tried to picture the fictitious Queen's dripping garb as she relayed the details of Ophelia's suicide. A sharp clunk from below confirmed that he was going to have to pay attention to the road or risk being thrown out of the vehicle altogether.
"Nomes below," He cursed, "Why can't the queen live in a place with decent roadways?"
"I don't know sir." Billings, his driver, righted his dark cap on his head and stared forward intently. Billings was new to his employ, a grocer who's debt to the Family had grown great enough for him to lose his shop and take work with them for little pay, and he seemed competent enough. Roman had been careful not to let him handle money though. He might be desperate and stupid enough to steal...or, at the very least, he would lost that money too.
"It was rhetorical." Roman replied dryly, looking at relief at the guard post ahead.
"Stars," Billings sighed, and pulled the automobile over to be searched.
Roman greeted the soldiers with a smile, his identity card and returned to his play as they searched his trunk in the back. Naturally, he had a concealed weapon, tucked in the car's very engine, but if they could find it, he deserved to be interrogated. He wouldn't be executed--maybe during Azka-D's reign--but not under Ozma's. Ozma did things in a gentler way. She had forgiven her own captor, her daughter, so a poor old man with a mysterious gun would hardly be treated too harshly.
The car passed the search and Billings drove them to the front gate. Roman collected his briefcase and nodded to Billings meaningfully to retrieve the weapon. One couldn't be too careful. Especially since Nomes were rumored to be attending Ozma's coronation.
As Roman ascended the house's great steps, he saw someone coming out and waved at them. "Excuse me," He smiled warmly, "I am here for the coronation. Could you help me locate my rooms?"