Vita slapped the letter down in front of Asimov.
"The Ratfolk are marching north. We have to do something!"
A thin hand emerged from an exquisite Mage Robe and picked up the letter. The aged mage read it with a smile. "The telltale touch of Common Tongue Language Proficiency... Vita, this young King of the North dislikes studying as much as you do."
"What are the Southlands kingdoms doing? They're letting those filthy Ratfolk set foot on human soil!?"
"You are a prince, not the crown prince or the King." Asimov refolded the letter along its creases. "We have no say in governing the kingdom. Your eldest brother decides whether we act and what we do."
"Clo? What can he do besides toy with women?" Vita paced urgently across the Tower. "I can't just stand by... Even the King of the North, stationed on the Northern Frontier, is worried about the Royal Capital, while we've done nothing... He wasn't warning us. He was demanding an answer. They guard the Northern Frontier for us, only to be betrayed by a pack of decadent Nobles behind their backs!"
"If you won't help, I'll find someone else!"
Vita took back the letter, convinced he had come to the wrong person. Before long, a carriage bearing the Royal Family's crest left the Castle and entered the Royal Capital without being stopped.
Outside the Royal Guard's Official Residence, Vitalig jumped from the carriage and rushed into the office.
"Uncle, look at this!"
"Vita..." The affable middle-aged man behind the desk sighed. "A member of the Royal Family who knows his etiquette shouldn't be in such a rush..."
"You'll be in more of a rush than I am once you've read it!" Vita pushed the letter in front of him.
The man read it in silence,