There is something incredibly gut-wrenching I enjoy watching in betrayal. And that characters should be presented with very hard choices. And chances to redeem themselves. They say at the end of a story, each character gets a 'reward' - or something as a result of their actions. Still don't know what to do with Fenne. He just fails so hard at the "standing up and being a man" thing (get it? standing up? oh, ho, ho, double entendre!)
Fenne enjoyed the contemplative quiet his tower room offered. The city sprawled below with people crawling like busy ants, but only bird song reached him here. He rubbed the scars left by the stitches from his amputation. Every so often, he felt as if his legs were still there. No longer able to tap his foot, he rapped his knuckles on the windowsill in time to the song stuck in his head. As he did, he heard a knock on the door. "Who is it?"
"It's me." Fenne's personal royal guard, Bohren opened the door and scratched his mop of blond hair. He bowed, "The Heilmdoran Prince wants a word with you before he heads out."
"I already told him I'm not interested." Fenne traced his fingers along the wood grain of his chair arms.
"He's got something for you." Bohren forced a smile, hoping to see his prince happy. "I think you'll like it."
Fenne folded his hands together. He trusted his knight's opinion, even if he was too optimistic at times. "Let him in, I guess."
Bohren exited and returned with a regal man in a thick, fur-lined cloak. He had a well-muscled build and light brown hair, cropped close to his skull that exposed his high forehead and aquiline nose. He met Fenne with his intense, orange eyes and bowed. "Your highness," he said, holding out a long, heavy, object wrapped in ordinary sack cloth.
Fenne frowned, "What is this? You had better not be mocking me."
"I would like to clarify that there are no hard feelings between my domain and yours due to our mutual interactions with the Tyrisi. Therefore, I have brought you a gift."
He gently laid the package on the floor and knelt to gingerly unwrap each corner of the cloth Fenne's breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the beauty Sorian had unveiled. A functional, mechanical leg. The bent steel bars replicated bone, and the copper wire mimicked the graceful flex of muscle. Sorian had replicated, the knee, ankle, and even toe joints with tiny hinges and gears, reinforced by outer plates of iron.
"I should hope that you would forgive my obtaining your measurements from your seamstress. I simply desired that my design fit your body perfectly. I did not mean to commit an intrusion on your privacy." He stood, letting Fenne view the construction in its entire, burnished glory. "If you sign with me and back my position against those Tyrisi traitors, I will give you the twin to this creation and return for a proper, personal fitting."
He gave one final bow and headed out the door. Fenne returned his attention to the window, but he could not shake his nagging curiosity. Once he heard Sorian descend the tower stairs, he shifted his eyes back onto the steel prosthetic on the floor. "Bohren," he called. "I need your help."
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