A far off Baron is causing a stir.

The hours pass quickly, with minor disputes and arguments easily settled with a word from you. As court comes to an end and the room begins to empty, you are approached by Sir Gilbert, "Your Majesty, several members of the nobility have accused Baron Lecter van Hoff of... indiscretions."

You give the man a narrow look, "Would you care to elaborate?"

He eyes the slowly disappearing crowd and you motion him forward. He whispers the full extent of the accusations in your ear and you find yourself grateful for his discretion, "Finally, there is Count Victor Harrows, who insists that the Baron is engaging in an ongoing affair with the Harrows women."

You give him an incredulous look, "Which one?"

Gilbert coughs, "All of them sire."

You do your best to keep your guffaw quiet but the nearest nobles raise their eyebrows, causing you to usher your advisor into a private room. You'd be impressed with the Baron if you believed what you were hearing. Lecter van Hoff was easily the fattest man you'd ever laid eyes on, who to this day had yet to do anything even remotely ambitious.

"These allegations cannot be accurate."

Lord Gilbert nodded in agreement but handed you a bundle of letters, "I would tend to agree sire, these nobles are clearly bewitched. Or extremely misguided." You chuckle, rubbing your eyes wearily.

"Why does the count not take action?"

"I believe he is awaiting your blessing to declare war upon the Baron as we speak."

You sigh, still adjusting to your role, "I'll send a letter to both men and demand the Baron face judgement. I can't have a internal war my first year as King."

Yet the Baron remained mute on the issue over two weeks later, only issuing you a vague invitation that addressed absolutely nothing. The Count, contrary-wise, was practically frothing at the mouth, making increasingly believable threats to move without royal consent. Which brought you to the outskirts of the Barons land, Lady Vessa and your usual entourage in tow. Since the demon incident you had fortified it somewhat, erring on the side of superstition with numerous holy and silver trinkets, not to mention Lady Vessa herself. Count Harrows awaited you with what forces he could find and then some. The **** is rather puny by your standards, outnumbered and out-equipped by your entourage, but you admit to being surprised the Count could muster even this much. The Harrows had not been a successful family in some time, their lands dwindling to political maneuvering and attrition from their rivals.

"Your Majesty." You're not pleased by his clipped tone and tiny nod but you're willing to forgive him under the apparent circumstances. Either he was bewitched, which Lady Vessa would soon clarify, or he was a fool unworthy of his title, which you would soon rectify. You had almost completely discarded the idea that he was telling the truth and you well and truly ignore his recounting of finding his daughters in bed with the fat man, instead paying attention to the hooded mage behind Harrows.

After many long minutes of quiet muttering and frowns, the half elf arcanist met your eyes under her hood. She shook her head. Well. At least you could be honest now.

"Why did you not simply kill the fat man then and there?"

"I TRIED!" Harrows practically screams before realizing who he was talking to, "Apologies, your Majesty, I was overcome. My daughters held me back while the fat fuck ran off. We were staying at his mansion at the time and my men were outnumbered or I would have..." He stops himself before admitting the intent to instigate a civil war, clearing his throat instead. "I am grateful you have come your Majesty, this debacle has shamed me to no end"

"Indeed. I hope for your titles sake that there is some weight to your claims Victor."

He slumped but did not respond, accepting the threat for what it was. You exchange a look with Lady Vessa, falling back to ride next to her.

"Odd that he is so resigned to his fate. Fools are rarely so collected."

You frown but don't answer. It was undoubtedly odd.