A few hours into nighttime, the carriage stops in front of the large estate. Not exactly homey, to say the least. Flapoon was awake the whole way there, with his ears irritated by Cankerby's snores.
Spittleworth, however, was fast asleep on Cankerby's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind how loud he was, which was very odd for someone like Spittleworth.
The king too, kept his eyes wide open. He was excited to meet the Pluritanian king and his country. He didn't want to interrupt any sleep he suspected his friends (and footman) were taking. They were his trusty lords, so to annoy them would be the most of his worries.
Cankerby blinked as he roused from his sitting slumber. If we were to take a look inside his mind, we would see him screaming his lungs out in childish ways, blushing at the amount of contact he was given.
In a short summary, yes. They were very close to each other in a way conscious Spittleworth would have not allowed. It was heart-throbbing.
"Ah! Welcome, Cornucopians!" a deep voice emerged outside the carriage.
Spittleworth had immediately risen, pretending like he wasn't just taking a beauty nap. The three came out, with Flapoon clenching his stomach to fit. Cankerby's hand let go of Spittleworth, his lovesick demeanor not ceasing one bit.
"Good morning, Your Finest! Your nephew has been waiting to meet you again!" Fred shook the Pluritanian king's hand.
The (other) king's name was King John the Fifth. A common name for an old ruler. John was surprised with the gesture, but otherwise was delighted. He didn't meet him for over a few months, and they needed to speak. He patted Fred on the head.
"My nephew indeed." John didn'r really care much about relations with his supposed family. He just needed a kin to marry one of his many daughters.
Meanwhile, the back was very chaotic. Not physically, but it had some rough times. Spittleworth was falling back asleep, with Cankerby and Flapoon having to steady his body and wake him up. It was a very easy process.
But it happened constantly.
"Are you even holding him?!" they whispered to each other, their faces flared. "Says the irish fuckin' immigrant!"
"What does that have to do with anything?!"
A back and forth banter happened quite literally behind the king. John was unsettled, so he spoke.
"Your friends are very.." he eyed the three of them with disgust "quirky."
King Fred chortled, finding it as some joke. It was, but it wasn't amusing like Fred so thought.
"You are ludicrously comic, my chap!" he slapped John's back as an action of friendliness. It didn't seem to work.
"This is Spittleworth! My good friend and advisor." he pointed at the sleepy lord, unaware of his clearly visible fatigue. "Flapoon is also a friend of mine! Comments of his weight aren't ensured." Flapoon quickly placed an innocent smile, with a face a mother loved. Cankerby waved slightly with John raising his eyebrows. Is that a footman? John muttered in his mind. "What title is he?"
Fred happily followed his instructions. "He's Cankerby! A footman we decided to bring along the way! He's very nosy too.. and.."
John's hearing trailed off as he zoned out.
"Why in the world would you bring a footman to tag along? You already have the company of your soldiers." It was true, but the soldiers wouldn't come until the day after.
"Cankerby is experienced in serving kings and lords such as me and my friends, while Spittleworth has made a good point that soldier-serving can be a bit filthy." he was very expressive towards many people when he was in a good mood.
John nodded hesitantly, meaning that he approved.
"Alright then. Guards," his men came up at the sound of their title. "Take them in please.
"Oh, and find that one a place to sleep."
YOU ARE READING
british gay problems
Fantasy"I like you. A lot." he said as he looked away. He leaned in so their faces gazed upon eachother. "You're being shy.." Cankerby is a nosy footman who loves being traded in gold. His sober afterwork is visible by personality. Soon, his drunken demean...
