Re: Tower of Ibica [Altamira]
Had Prince Hunter Merridale been a suspicious man, he might have realized that Cadenza had sent him on this little excursion for no purpose other than to get him out of her hair. But because he wasn't, he was out here on this moor, and the wind was nipping at his ears and freezing him from the inside out in his armor, like a can of sardines. His knees rattled.
Had Prince Hunter Merridale been a shrewd man, he might have noticed that this old tower was more bare than a fig tree in an avalanche, and that the two guards stationed outside wore the look of guards everywhere; "I'm here because I was ordered to be." Men guarding something worth guarding always looked more nervous--there was something to lose in that situation. But because he wasn't, when he got to the top days or hours from now, as Cadenza had instructed him to, he'd be surprised to find that there was nothing more than a useless flag flapping in the breeze.
Had Prince Hunter Merridale been a selfish man, he would have taken his day of peace from the Choras campaigns to soak his feet, sip some tea, and read a good book. But because he wasn't, he was hiking now, to the amused looks of strangers, through the soggy fields towards this stone tower that looked like a great minaret bristling up from the ground from some castle under the earth. And with him, he had brought (much to the even greater amusement of the strangers, who always enjoyed a good piece of street theater, like watching some poor half-wit marching to a grueling ordeal unawares) nothing but a few days' rations, a spear, a grappling hook, and a slingshot to aid him.
To make matters even more pathetic, he hadn't even the faintest idea what he was endeavoring to find, save for that it was at the very top of the structure, and he'd "know it when he saw it". But, for a man like Hunter, this was enough. He was earnest, caring, and generous--and always tried to please. He really, honestly cared about making others happy, and for the grieving Lady Madrigal, he'd do whatever was in his power to make wishes become a reality. No amount of discomfort or difficulty would daunt him. It wasn't just chivalry that came into play here--it was just a heart so golden that, like the metal itself, it was easily manipulated to whatever end you wanted. It was an innocence that thought that everyone, deep down, was good--or that at least wanted to believe that.
It was because of this that Cadenza Madrigal, (who was a suspicious, shrewd, and selfish woman, as she often admitted to herself) almost felt guilty as she soaked her feet, sipped tea, and enjoyed a good book. Almost. But, as she told herself, you can only tolerate so many "but milady, _____!"s while trying to sift through paperwork, deal with assistants and other teachers, and educate thick-headed students before something goes snap! and you want to send your princely pest to some tower far far away.