Consequence

The entire court was gathered when Londo entered.

It only made for a more dramatic effect when they saw that he was pulling Throk through the room after his crest, ignoring his kicking and screaming.

“I WANT SCISSORS AND SHEARERS, AND I WANT THEM NOW!!”

He bellowed, marching up to the throne and turning towards them. He threw Throk down and put his boot on his side, keeping him where he was. One of the guards ran out of the room, quickly returning with a pair of golden scissors.

“My dear friends, I hope you all remember that, despite certain set-backs, we are still a civilized society!”

Maybe this was how Cartagia had started. A public execution of some kind. They certainly looked frightened. But his blood was boiling, and wouldn’t stop,

“And that though nerves might be frayed, attacks such as the one I just witnessed are not permitted, and especially not in the palace!”

He grabbed the boy’s crest again, and started shaking him like a rag doll,

“I just witnessed this one assult Lady Senna for rejecting his advances!”

Now he could see the parents. Lord Milifa had gone quite pale, while his second wife was hiding her face in her handkerchief. The first wife was clinging to them both, trying desperately to keep her thin legs from giving out from under her.

“Your majesty, please!!”

Throk screamed.

Londo didn’t budge. He accepted the scissors from the guard.

Now the mother’s legs gave out. Her husband captured her just in time. He was kneeling, face to the crowd as Londo crushed his crest further. His hands itched for a sword or just anything bigger and sharper than the flimsy little scissors. But they would have to do. Throk was fighting more wildly than before.

“I’ll end up cutting you. Why don’t you be good for once?”

“Your majesty, I didn’t mean…”

“I’ve been far too leniant with you,”

He began cutting. The sound seemed to echo throughout the throne room, and then it broke into buzzing between the nobles.

“Striking anyone who can’t defend themselves against you, and for something as minor as rejection…” He cut again, and Throk sobbed, “That is cowardly, Throk. It speaks volumes about your character. What you may have of it.”

The crest was hardly a crest anymore. He wagged his finger at one of the guards, and was given the shearers.

«Majesty, please… I beg you. Not that.»

«Why?»

«I’m not lowly.»

«Oh, but that’s exactly what you are, boy.»

He was shaking and sobbing, no doubt looking away from his parents.

The golden doors swung open and Durla marched in flanked by nothing but Prime Candidates. They all stopped dead in their tracks when they saw Throk and the growing pile of hair on the floor,

«Majesty, he was my responsibility…»

Londo stopped what he was doing and pointed the shearers at him,

«YES, INDEED HE WAS, DURLA. WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?! AND HOW DARE YOU PLACE THIS… THIS WILD ANIMAL IN MY SERVICE!! »

He went back to shearing, and held Throk in one ear,

“That is another thing. You are a servant here. My servant! And for you to be striking anyone, particularly a noble lady, could easily have led to you losing the hand you used. I suppose this will have to do.”

Throk was red-faced and snotty when Londo was done. The parents stood close to the throne, staring at him. Londo brushed some hair off his coat while the first wife reached out and petted her son’s cheek. He jerked his head away as if her fingers were scorching him.

“Now. Your son is going on latrine duty for the guards the rest of the year. If he behaves himself, I’ll consider letting him work in construction.”

Durla stepped forth again, hands clutched,

“Majesty, the boy is still a noble and the Head of the Prime Candidates!”

Londo stepped down to him and pointed the shearers right at his nose,

“I DON’T CARE, DURLA!! HE ASSULTED MY WARD. THE MAKER ONLY KNOWS WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED HAD I NOT BEEN THERE TO STOP HIM!! NOW, GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I TAKE YOUR CREST, TOO!!”

Durla backed away slightly, and the Prime Candidates looked nervously at the two men. He pointed at them,

“Another incident like this involving any of you, and I’ll disband this ridiculous little organization of yours. LEAVE!”

They vanished, closely followed by the rest of the court, and finally Throk who was still crying so hard that he had to be held up by two guards.

Finally, there were no one left in the room but Londo and the parents. The first wife’s eyes were burning.

“Well? How soon can I expect the assassins to show up?”

“Assassins would be too good for you.”

Lady Milifa hissed. Lord Milifa took her hand when she seemed to lunge forward.

“Bysir, please...”

He was a large man, but clearly gentle. Londo would have suspected Throk to be the result of an affair, had they not had the same nose and eyes.

“… Did he really strike the girl?”

“Shall I ask her out here? The sound of the punch he threw is still echoing in my ears, and she currently has a bruise on her cheek the size of a ripe tyrpa."

His second wife sighed softly. She was about as puffy-eyed as her son.

“We… we realized, perhaps too late, the change in him. Ever since the damned Prime Candidates began, he’s been so pre-occupied with honor and making his name known. But he’s gone about it all wrong.”

Bysir snorted,

“Perhaps so!! But public punishment? I had expected that from the brat!!”

Now it was the second wife’s turn to take her hand. Londo was ashamed that he couldn’t remember which of them had carried him. But from the way they were acting, it could have been either, which was a good sign. One rarely saw troublemakers coming from families where the parents got along as well as the Milifas.

Perhaps Throk had been the victim of a sort of brain washing. The work would maybe set his mind right again. At the very least, it would keep him away from Senna.

“We accept your punishment for him, majesty. And thank you for not involving our house.”

Londo nodded. Bysir glared at him as they left the Throne Room. The brat, she had said. Cartagia. So his assumption had been right.

But he couldn’t be bothered with unflattering comparisons right now. He had a child of his own to worry about, he thought, as he went down the hall and to Senna’s chamber.