The Fae Railways became a huge success for the Republic. After a few days, businesses and farms across the forest saw an uptick in their profits. Because of that, Realmfleet assistance was now lessened. Malnar and Gorfanth returned to their private ship and left the forest with the Endeavor. Arsha and Malnar stayed in communication with each other as both were asked to go to Wysper City. “You think Lardeth picked a coronation date?” asked Arsha.
“Why else would we head there?” replied Malnar.
“Well, it IS his birthday tomorrow.”
“Yeah, but…” Malnar trailed off as her eyes went wide.
“…YOU FORGOT?!” wailed Arsha.
“I WAS BUSY BEING QUEEN!” argued Malnar.
“IT’S LITERALLY THE BIGGEST SOCIAL EVENT OF EVERY FELOMPHA’S LIFE!”
“Well, did YOU get him something?!”
“Yeah, actually! So did Gorfanth, Falnii, and Foresna! Malnar, I can’t believe it!” She then drew in a breath. “Okay, when we land, we’re gonna have to spend the whole day looking for something to give him!”
Back at the castle, things were in a hectic plight. Lardeth’s sisters were trying to get everything set up for the party the next day. The twins, Welmaf and Eemaf, looked like they were gonna tear their hair out if their hair wasn’t made of clouds. “This is ridiculous!” wailed Welmaf. “We gotta get a birthday party AND a coronation going!”
“Why Lardeth and our parents picked THIS week,” grumbled Eemaf, “I’ll never understand. The kitchen staff are being rushed off their legs, the maids are gonna be sick after being around their cleaning supplies for so long, and the butlers are gonna lose their voice announcing the guests’ arrivals!” A butler then ran up to them.
“Your Highnesses, good news!” he cheered. “The cake is complete!”
“Oh, thank the Heights!” sighed Welmaf. She turned to Eemaf. “That cake’s gonna be the talk of the city! 306 layers and all of them a marbled cake!”
“Oh dear,” gulped the butler as the head baker wheeled the cake in.
“What’s with the ‘oh dear’?” asked Welmaf in a warning tone.
“Here we are, Your Highness!” called the head baker. “A marbled cake with 306 candles!”
“I said His Highness’s cake needs to have 306 LAYERS, not candles!” snapped the butler. “That looks more like a confectionary porcupine!”
“You call it what you like, I call it a fire hazard,” snarked Eemaf. “You said the cake IS marbled, yes?”
“That’s right,” said the head baker.
“Well, you’ve got one layer already,” said Welmaf. “Go tell the kitchens to make 305 more layers.” The head baker wheeled off and brought the mistake cake with him.
“There’s no WAY the cake will be assembled in time!” complained Eemaf. Just then, A Zephyr man (the Royal Troubadour) entered the room. “Sir, did you finish Lardeth’s birthday song?” The Troubadour strummed his lute before he answered in song.
“I have cogitated
Correlated
Syncopated
And related
Orchestrated
And created
Songs to please your brother!”
“…Does that mean you finished?”
“I have finished.”
“Let’s hear it.” The Troubadour strummed again.
“It’s Prince Lardeth’s date of birth
Let bells ring out the news!
We’ll celebrate with joy and mirth
And a party I suppoose!” Eemaf grabbed his shoulder.
“What was that last word?” she hissed.
“Suppoose, Your Grace.”
“OUT!” The Troubadour fled the room, breezing past Lardeth as he came in.
“Grief!” gulped Lardeth. “Our parents leave the castle for one minute and you girls feel rushed!”
“Oh, ha HA!” snarled Welmaf. “You know, it ain’t exactly easy planning a birthday party and a coronation at the same time! Some of the potential guests still haven’t replied!”
“Speaking of potential guests, where are your lovers?” asked Eemaf.
“They’re looking around the city,” replied Lardeth. “If I had to hazard a guess, last-minute gift shopping. Perfect for me as I’m heading to South Beach for my Royal Portrait. I already got my dress all planned. Once that’s all done and Arsha and the others are finished with their errands, we’re just gonna tool around the entertainment district. Maybe some mini golf, the arcades, go see a play, something like that.” The twins sighed in relief.
“All right, that’ll give us some breathing-” Welmaf was interrupted by a maid rushing up to them with a letter in her hands.
“Your Highness!” she called to Lardeth. “Your Highness, a letter came for you!”
“Who’s it from?” asked Lardeth.
“From Lord Alomela Temnobal.” Lardeth’s face darkened at that name.
“As in my creepily possessive actor ex-boyfriend?”
“I’m afraid so,” said the maid. Lardeth took the letter from her hand and opened.
“‘Dear Sweet Lardy,’” Lardeth read aloud, “‘it has come to my attention that I have yet to receive an invitation to your upcoming birthday party and coronation. This is an understandable oversight as the mail delivery and your staff are saturated with-’” He didn’t even finish the insult as he just turned it to ash. The maid swept it up quickly.
“I’ll put this in the ice melt mixture, shall I?” she said.
“Please do,” replied Lardeth. The Troubadour came back.
“My Lord, a singing message has made
Its way to the castle gates!” he sang.
“And it’s from?” asked Lardeth.
“From Lord Alomela Temnobal
The one you won’t invite to your ball.” Lardeth’s face darkened again.
“Any insults towards you lot?”
“The foulest.”
“Then don’t waste your singing talents on that. I don’t wanna hear it!”
“Very wise, Your Grace.”
“Lardeth! Out the window!” called Welmaf and Eemaf.
“Now what?!” snarled Lardeth.
“Up in the sky! A broom rider making a smoke message!”
“‘I eagerly await your embrace, Lardy-pie’,” grunted Lardeth as he read the message aloud. He then fired a cloud dispelling charm, making the message vanish. “He can wait for all time and he won’t be in my embrace again! That insulting jackass isn’t allowed anywhere near the castle and that’s that! He’s not invited! In fact, I’m gonna make it plain to him! Ms. Lanya!”
“Yes, Your Highness?” asked the maid.
“Tell the Royal Painter I’m gonna be a few minutes late! I’ve got a letter to write!”
“Very good, My Lord.”
Lord Temnobal, a slender Zephyr man, was preening himself in his jewel-encrusted room. He twirled as he looked in the mirror, then shook his head. “No, a tutu-style dress just ain’t doing it,” he muttered. His clouds then shifted into another shape, a mermaid-style dress. “…I suppose that works, but with this hair?” He then ran his hands through the clouds that made up his hair, occasionally forming smaller ones and placing them in his hair. “…I think I got the general shape, but-” someone then knocked on each corner of his door. “My solitary palace is ready for visitors!” he replied. A plump Zephyr woman, his agent, then came into the room. “AH! My darling and wonderful agent! What news?! Tell me, is there a stage that requires my presence?”
“Actually, my news is bad,” answered his agent as she pulled out a letter. “A letter came for you and-”
“Darling, carrying letters is for my staff, not a lady of good-repute like you!”
“Well, it’s from Lardeth and, given the exposed cold greeting, I thought you would want to take care of it at once.”
“My beloved Lardy-cake?!” He took the letter and saw the cold greeting. “…That’s definitely his handwriting, but just ‘To Lord Temnobal’? My dear agent, you’re right, that IS cold.” He opened the letter and read the rest of it aloud. “You have written forty-two letters, made three singing messages, and sent a broom rider to harass my castle.’ Harass? ‘My family, the staff you insulted, and I have gotten your message, so I’ve taken the liberty of writing you an order to…’” Lord Temnobal goggled at the end of the sentence, “‘to STOP?!’ What?! ‘I gave my castle’s staff permission to open any and all mail from you and give me a quick summary of your messages before burning them.’ BURNING THEM?! ‘Your last few were way too threatening.’ Okay, I MAY have been a bit harsh. ‘You said you’d vandalize the castle, burn the countryside, poison the rivers, and turn everyone purple.’ Lardy-love, you know I never mean that. ‘In the short time I’ve known you, you have proven to never mean such threats, so you certainly don’t mean these ones.’ I DID TOO! ‘Whether or not you did is unimportant. No invitations were sent out to you as you’re NOT invited. You have insulted my parents, my staff, and my future spouses. You are too possessive and you are a coward who hides behind his makeup. If I catch you at my party, you WILL lose your financial status and I will see to it that you never act again, you oversized, lily-livered ham. Lardeth Felompha, Crown-prince of the Over-realm.’ OF ALL THE NERVE!” Lord Temnobal punched a hole in the wall in rage. “All right, Lardeth! You wanna play hardball?! We’ll play hardball!” He opened his makeup kit. “Time for my greatest role of all!”