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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 26, 2011 0:26:30 GMT -5
Victor smiled.
"The trophies it is, then."
The more technologically unstable ones were kept in a vault to begin with, so there was little possibility of another such shock. The hall of trophies was one of the few rooms that had maintained its purpose as ownership of the castle changed hands. The spoils of war, triumphant hunts and bloodied banners had been superseded by -- of course -- more armor and artwork. Interspersed were historical artifacts that looked suspiciously unweathered, and shreds of costume from several hapless superheroes. These additions were under glass, or at least something that looked like glass, and every one was an anchor for memory. A display of three ancient canopic jars had central place. They were well-lit and somewhat incongruous with the whole Mediaeval mood Doom was cultivating, but he stroked the glass with a little fondness as he went past.
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 26, 2011 0:30:53 GMT -5
Tybalt stared blankly. They meant nothing to him; he knew not what histories they spoke of and had not been trained to be curious.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 26, 2011 0:57:11 GMT -5
Quietly, he narrated the histories of the few of these objects that did not involve sorcery, advanced technologies, or suffering children. (Under such restrictions, they weren't the most impressive artifacts either.) It was not in a manner intended to mean overmuch to Tybalt either, but if he happened to listen and take note, it was no loss. At least in part it was the pleasure of hearing his own voice, even in a language that was not his own.
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 27, 2011 0:32:22 GMT -5
Tybalt did listen, but took very little in, as this was not the kind of information he was accustomed to assimilating. What he did gather was that Latveria had a rocky history but was now prosperous - and that Doom was the anchor to that prosperity.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 27, 2011 2:09:19 GMT -5
They reached a banner, prematurely faded in black and green. The current design of the Latverian regent's flag was shamelessly self-serving, but the colors and layout, at least, were traditional. Doom turned to address him directly, and his voice was low and firm.
"This is what you will defend, Tybalt. You are in service to much more than a man."
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 27, 2011 2:22:21 GMT -5
Tybalt looked ashy and white. Perhaps it was the terror that Doom would never let him return to Verona, perhaps he was afraid he wouldn't measure up.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 27, 2011 2:50:00 GMT -5
"You will serve admirably, and any family would be be honored to hear of it."
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 27, 2011 2:54:36 GMT -5
"- but my lord, I cannot remain in Latveria indefinitely-" he said desperately.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 27, 2011 9:35:06 GMT -5
"One year's service. After that, you may go or stay as pleases you."
Putting a definite date on things soured his mood a little, but only stiffened his resolve that Tybalt's loyalty might be won in that span of time. No one but a fool would choose to return to a warring hellhole when shown a more pleasant way to live.
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 27, 2011 17:57:42 GMT -5
Tybalt was completely silent.
An entire year.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 28, 2011 0:09:02 GMT -5
"No evil will befall your house during that time. I will personally ensure it."
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 28, 2011 1:53:25 GMT -5
"But they don't even know where I am-"
His mouth had gone dry. His manner was less whining and more like a panicking dog, caught with its foot in a painful trap.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 28, 2011 9:42:22 GMT -5
It was generally a good policy to treat touching Doom's person like a death warrant, but there was little he could do by way of expression or tone of voice to back his point up.
"Do you doubt me?"
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 29, 2011 3:37:14 GMT -5
"Surely they don't even know where I am-"
His mode had gone so deeply into panic that he could hardly see or hear Doom.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 29, 2011 8:31:11 GMT -5
"They'll be informed, Tybalt, calm yourself. As a guest, no harm will come to you, but if you'd prefer them to think of you as a hostage here..."
He rested both hands on Tybalt's shoulders, gaze low and level.
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