Chapter Text
Dear Kyle Broflovski,
I hope you have been doing well. It has been a bit of time since we talked, no? I’ve been doing just fine, if you are curious.
I would like to share that it has come to my attention that the Sisters of the Stars from the neighboring kingdom has been visiting me (and possibly the both of us) much more lately, and not only would I like to warn you of this, I’d also like to share an idea I’ve had that I believe will help against this growing threat.
For the peace and safety of my kingdom, and your kingdom, in what I soon hope will be our kingdom, me and my highest nobles and officials have decided to request to initiate a marriage between the two of us.
While I understand we have had many battles due to our rivalries, I am willing to forgive and forget to strategize further for future matters. I would even say we would only wed for this purpose; you’ve definitely had your eyes on someone, haven’t you? I wouldn’t be surprised. I believe that this will help with dealing with any other neighboring kingdoms in time of war, and our strengths will easily guarantee victory every time.
Do you believe that you may meet here at the Kupa Palace in a week’s time, from Sunday? I apologize for such a short notice and letter, but I reckon that speaking upon this matter is necessary for an urgent travel.
Best Regards,
Princess Kenny McCormick
—
“Stanley?” Kyle called, looking down at the knight. “Is the letter important, or are the pirates trying to bargain for a port again?”
Stan blinked, looking down at the letter, skimming through it once more. He reached up and handed it to the king after neatly putting it back into the envelope with a small nod, “It’s important, my liege.”
With a hum, Kyle grabbed the letter, taking it back out of the envelope and handing it back to Stan for disposal as he read. “A meet with McCormick?”
“I can check your schedule if you’d like,” Stan said, bowed down slightly, his head turned down to look at his feet. “I believe we do have an import of poultry arriving that day, but—“
“Tell Stoley to filter them.” The elf pocketed the letter under his robes, glancing back down at Stan. “What time is it? Lunch is soon, correct?”
“Yes, of course, your majesty,” he nodded, armor clanking quietly as he stood back up. “Lunch is in an hour, approximately. I’ve already alerted the chefs to start cooking,” he acknowledged, following Kyle as he left the chambers. “Would you like me to tell the heads about your departure?”
Kyle shook his head, his pace slowing as he took gentle steps down the spiral staircase, wooden floorboards recently polished, gold design and sigils adorned on the railings. He stayed quiet on the way down, as he always did — careful not to trip over his robes. (He’d done that too many times for it not to be somewhat embarrassing.)
He took the last step, Stan lagging a few stairs behind him. “They do not need to know yet. I need to think further on the matter.”
“But I would like for you to clear my schedule, Marshwalker.”
“Of course.”
“How is the market doing?”
Stan grabbed his notepad, flipping through pages with log after log of finances, scheduling, war strategies, and other messily scribbled notes. “...Some patrons say that the fertilizer has raised to too high of a price, say they ’Shan’t be buying from such a greedy corporate anymore’.”
Kyle rolled his eyes, stopping in his tracks and leaning against the wall slightly. “And what are the prices, exactly?”
“Five per pound,” Stan noted, closing the notebook and storing it back in his pocket. “Too high?”
“Quite,” Kyle mumbled, biting the inside of his cheek. “Can you manage a bargain for three, and a half? Who’s running the stall?”
“Clyde.”
“Of course. No one other than a pirate would go so high.” Kyle sighed, messing with his hair idly. His gaze went to Stan for a moment, then back ahead of him. There was a quiet buzz from all the lights in the castle, crystal chandeliers radiating and reflecting all around. It was a faint sound, one with ‘normal’ human ears like Stan wouldn’t be able to pick up. Stan was Kyle’s right-hand-man, but there would always be disadvantages that the ranger had.
He always made up for it in his skill and agility, though.
“Don’t you have a class to teach, Marshwalker?”
“I wanted to stay with you, your highness.” There was a flicker of sheepishness, a slight flit of something that wasn’t his usual firm expression he’d have on the battlefield, or when relaying messages to others.
Kyle chuckled, the laugh echoing throughout the spacious walls, a grin playing on the corners of his lips. “You’re always with me, though?”
“..I’d like to stay with you more. I feel as if I’ve been neglecting my duty of being with you at all times,” Stan murmured, looking down at his feet. Loud stomps echoed through his light footsteps, the weight of his shoes mimicking the walk of a giant’s. “With all the volunteering I’ve been taking.”
“Well, you’re always doing enough, Stanley.”
It wasn’t long before lunch, with chefs bringing out plate after plate for all of the castle staff. The head stood at the front of the table, mainly looking at the elven king at the other end of the table.
“Today’s meal is a spaghetti carbonara, made with pancetta,” they announced, with a small bow of his head and a smile on his face. “And we’ll have some of our chefs and waiters out to take extra requests and drink orders, as per usual.” They waited for Kyle’s approval before leaving, said chefs and waiters also beginning to circle around the table.
Kyle rolled up his sleeves, handing Stan a bite of his food and bringing it up to his mouth. “Marshwalker, may you try this, please? To make sure it’s not poisoned.” He was always positive that it wasn’t, but it was also always safe to make sure — and he knew Stan would easily risk his life for him. It was something he admired about the man.
“I can assure you it isn’t, my liege..” Stan muttered, taking a piece with his own fork and tasting it. “It’s delicious as always,” he said, having a bite of his food.
The redhead hummed, twirling his fork in the pasta and blowing on it gently, sticking it in his mouth and wiping his chin with the cloth napkin. “So, how have the classes been?”
“Going well,” he said, garbled, along with an apology for talking with a mouthful of food. There wasn’t much to say, so he didn’t find any reason to elaborate any more. “When do you plan on speaking with the palace heads upon the meeting with McCormick? Just so I know what I should reschedule, for both you and me.”
“Tomorrow, I suppose. Closer to noon,” Kyle shrugged, “I will have time to discuss it privately with you, and Ike, and we will all have more than enough time to pack and prepare.”
Stan nodded, setting down his fork. He tilted his head, brows furrowed. “Ike’s coming as well?”
“No.”
“I’ve yet to trust him on leaving the kingdom’s territory,” he sighed, looking down at his plate, messing with the spaghetti with the silverware mindlessly. “But I trust him enough to help with basic tasks and questions, like directions or checking up on the kitchen and market.”
He gently pushed the plate away, pulling his sleeves back down, hands folded neatly in his lap. “And, of course, I’ll need my best knight to help keep guard, just in case,” he smiled, looking over at Stan with a raised eyebrow. “You have no classes next Sunday.”
“I don’t?” Stan narrowed his eyes.
“..Oh, no. I don’t, your majesty.”
Kyle let out a small snicker, nodding. “Yes, you don’t,” he confirmed. “I’m sure there’ll be someone to replace you for a bit.”
“Of course,” the ravenet grinned, “I can see who will be available at that time, your highness.”