Chapter Text
Consciousness crashes into Techno with all the gentleness of a hammer to the chest. Almost literally, considering his chest feels not too dissimilar to such a description. The sharp pain he finds upon waking draws a wheeze from him, white hot pain searing across his ribs.
The pain doesn’t fade as he fully wakes up and tries to relax. Wet coughs break from his chest involuntarily, causing the twinging pain to ratchet up to a horrid sort of agony. Techno’s body freezes up, paralyzed with pain as cold sweat paints his body. Something is definitely not right here.
With a wild shaking hand Techno gropes at his bedside table, desperately searching for the servants’ bell. The string finally tickles at the tips of his fingers, Techno grabbing it and yanking on it roughly.
It likely only takes a couple minutes for one of the servants to scuttle into Techno’s room, but that time seems to draw out impossibly long. He lightly dusts his fingers over his rib cage, trying to pinpoint whatever damage is causing the terrible agony stabbing into him. The location becomes quite obvious even with the light contact, as his fingertips touch one of his middle ribs, causing even more severe pain to stretch out from the point. A choking sort of noise escapes him as black spots quickly fill his eyesight and then very slowly fade away.
“Your Majesty?” A hesitant voice asks from his side, almost being lost to the rushing blood in Techno’s ears. He turns slightly, blinking heavily at the slight maid’s slightly concerned gaze.
“Fetch the doctor please,” Techno mutters, voice not even carrying an inch of the power he usually tries to put into it. The servant nods regardless, turning away from him and leaving the room.
Techno breathes shallowly, every intake causing sharp bursts of pain while the exhales cause a hollower echo of aching. Pinching his eyes shut, Techno tries to force calmness into his body. It’s a difficult task considering literally breathing causes him to feel like he’s dying. Or that a rib is puncturing his lung.
Gods he hopes a rib isn’t puncturing his lung right now.
Techno presses a hard hand over his mouth, trying to hold in any of the scratchy coughs desperately trying to claw their way out. Every small spasm of his diaphragm sends a jolt of pain through his ribs, causing his breath to go fluttery, which irritates his lungs and ribs further. All in all, the few minutes it takes for his doctor to be brought to his room feels like the sort of eternity that a foolish human would be doomed to suffer through by a vengeful god.
“What seems to be the problem?” The doctor asks blandly, sounding half bored to death. Techno squints his eyes open, not having even noticed he pinched them shut.
“My ribs, they feel injured,” Techno rasps out. The doctor sighs, kneeling at Techno’s bedside before wrenching him into a sit. A choked sound escapes Techno at the movement, vision whiting over as his ribs shift.
“It is likely just lung pain from the infection Sir,” The doctor drones. He reaches out to open up Techno’s shirt, until Techno stops the hand’s approach with a grab, offering the best glare he can while a cold sweat collects over his skin. “I need to examine your ribs if you think they’re injured.”
The doctor almost sounds like he’s talking to an unruly child and Techno feels his cheeks heat in annoyance. He raises his shaky fingers to his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it himself. It’s honestly difficult to get the small shiny buttons through the tiny button holes when his fingers feel ready to drop off his palms, but he’d rather spend an hour plucking at the fabric then ask for help at this point.
Eventually he opens his shirt up, peeling away the fabric to reveal his chest. The doctor immediately prods his fingers against a slightly red portion of his skin, making Techno recoil from the pain and let out gasp.
“You need to sit still if you want an exam,” The doctor says, grabbing Techno’s elbow and lifting it above his head to reveal the expanse of his ribs better. It causes horrible twinges of pain as the tendons shift and pull and he has to bite the inside of his mouth hard to keep any noises or movements inside. The doctor continues to stab around at the tender area and Techno finds his eyes drifting upwards and head flooding with hot static. Eventually he drops the limb, and Techno immediately curls forward trying to ease the pain.
“It is likely just inflamed from coughing. Try not to cough so much and it will recover.” The doctor grabs his unopened bag off the ground as if he is planning to leave immediately.
Techno’s brows furrow in confusion as the words sink it. He’s pretty certain that whatever is wrong with his chest is worse than some irritation. It hurts like hell at the smallest inhale. That can certainly not be normal even with a chest infection. The pain in his lungs is distinctly different from the sharp ache in his bones.
“Respectfully, I do not think that is accurate. Something feels broken,” Techno objects.
“Yes, well. Respectfully I believe my decades of experience when they show it is nothing. Just try to relax,” The doctor says. Techno squints his eyes at the man, irritation breaking through the cloying malaise.
“I am aware what a broken bone feels like and this hurts worse. I can barely breathe. Please do not be presumptuous,” Techno says, voice taking on a harder edge.
“I can not do anything more for you. If you wish to discuss this further, I will have your Head Advisor fetched for you,” The doctor says.
Anger almost overwhelms the pain Techno feels, forcing him to take in a large breath only for the pain to flare back up. A small whimper escapes him, making the doctor sigh and whisper directions to the servant in the room. It only fuels Techno’s anger more, as he didn’t ask for his advisor to be fetched. What does this guy get off on? Techno is old enough to know about his own health. Even if he wasn't, he's the King! It shouldn’t matter if he’s asking the palace doctor to check if he still has all ten fingers attached, he should do it!
Weak coughs make it through his tight lips, sending pulsating jabs of pain radiating from the middle of his left ribs. Every pang only seems to reinforce his horrible bubbling frustration at not being listened to. At having his words disregarded and left unfollowed.
His Head Advisor clicks into the room with a look of irritation, barely glancing at Techno before turning her attention to the doctor. Of course it’s not just the doctor. When does any of the people that he employs and rules over actually listens to him and does as he says? Never!
“Why are you causing issues, Your Majesty? The doctor says you are refusing his advice?” Advisor Seraphine asks, not even bothering to cover the statements with some decorum.
“Something is wrong with my ribs. He is not taking my health seriously,” Techno says flatly. The Head Advisor purses her lips and glances between the two of them before turning to Techno with a placating smile. A scowl breaks through Techno’s flat facade.
“He said it is just from the chest infection. Maybe he can get you some pain killers?” The Head Advisor says with an overexaggerated lilt in her voice.
“No. I want my ribs to be checked properly before they pop my lungs and I suffocate to death,” Techno says, glaring at his advisor. Seraphine lets out a huff like it is some kind of huge inconvenience on her that the doctor she chose has to actually do his job of keeping Techno alive. Finally she swishes a hand forward, motioning for the doctor to step back up to Techno’s bed.
“Just give him another exam,” She says, talking as if Techno’s not even in the room or part of the conversation.
As the doctor relofts Techno's arm above his head he has to breathe heavily through the pain and irritation, trying to keep the inhalations small. They come out wheezy with the effort to not cough, but he forces himself to stay still as the doctor starts pressing his fingers against his ribs. He runs them down the length of all the ribs in the area, pressing a bit harder on the reddened section. It causes a sharp burst of pain and Techno flinches despite himself.
“See, I believe it is just inflamed cartilage,” The doctor says, turning to look at the advisor.
Seraphine opens her mouth to spout who knows what garbage before the doctor presses a bit harder on the irritated section, eliciting a cracking noise from Techno's ribs that is not quite covered up by his yelp.
Black floods Techno's vision once again and he has to blink heavily to stay present in the moment and not dip below the churning abyss of unconsciousness. His body weight hangs limply from the doctor's hand before he finally lowers Techno onto the bed. Low vibrations fill the air and it takes Techno far too long to realize that they are pained groans coming from himself. He immediately pinches his mouth and eyes closed, trying to force away the horrid sick feelings of nausea and pain.
“That sounded like a bone breaking!” His Advisor says, voice finally taking on some urgency.
“Well, it is still an abnormal presentation. I don’t know—” The doctor begins before Techno forces words from his tight throat.
“Get out. I want a new doctor,” Techno croaks, peeling an eye open to look blearily at the two people still in his room. Both turn to him with frowns, the doctor taking a step closer to him. “Don’t touch me! Bring me a new doctor now!”
His advisor has the gall to think it over for a second before nodding and placing a hand on the doctor's elbow and leading him from the room. Techno lays frozen in his awkward position, not willing to move a muscle for threat of the pain flaring up worse. Every breath itches terribly and it takes constant reminders to not cough and jolt his ribs any further.
The sweat eventually starts cooling on Techno's body, evaporating and leaving him feeling cold despite the fever. His teeth click together with minute shivers. It seems his rib bones are clicking together as well, since they burn with every shake.
Eventually he finds himself cast under a thin veil of sleep, slipping into short bouts of dreams before being pulled out, unsure of how much time has passed. The dreams are really more snippets of images that make his stomach clench uncomfortably. Dirt sticking to moist skin and runny eggs going tepid in the air. The nausea might be a nice distraction from the sharp pain in his ribs, except the sickening feeling is almost directly under said damaged ribs.
A particularly violent cough manages to work its way free from Techno’s chest, causing horrid pain to flare to life with the jarring motions. He does his best to hold down the scratching expulsions, even as it seems to tear his throat apart. Small pools of moisture collect in the corners of Techno’s eyes as he wraps his arms lightly around himself, trying to hold his abdomen bodily still.
A few tears drip free and Techno quickly swipes them away, aware of how a new physician will hopefully be entering the room soon. He dearly hopes that literally anyone will enter the room soon and fix his ribs or at least give him something to let him sleep. Anything to make the pain go away or at least lessen.
Techno peeks his eyes open at the sound of his door clicking open and almost cries tears of joy at the sight of a young woman dressed in white and lugging a large medical bag behind her. A bit of uncertainty creeps in as no one else enters the room behind her, and Techno watches her pink head drop into a small bow before approaching. She is most definitely not a fully trained doctor. Techno can only hope she doesn’t further break his ribs he supposes.
“Where’s a doctor,” Techno mutters, cringing as even the short words cause some pain.
“I am the physician,” The girl explains, looking at him a bit unimpressed. Techno squints at her and half wonders if this is some weird assassination attempt.
“You look awfully young for a doctor,” Techno states. He had honestly thought she was a nurse or doctor in training. She looks hardly older than a teenager.
“And you look awfully young for a King. Your Majesty,” Her cheeks pink up a little at the words. Probably because that definitely counts as overt disrespect and possibly could be spun as treason against the King, but as long as she doesn’t poke any of her fingers through his ribs he guesses it’s fine. “May I examine you?”
Techno sighs lowly but nods in assent, beginning to lever himself up with much effort. She quickly steps forward and wraps gentle but firm hands around him, guiding him up slowly while supporting him with more strength than she looks like she possesses. He supposes it makes sense, since even most nurses and doctors need a good amount of strength to work with patients, but the old palace doctor always jerked about like his limbs were too weak for prolonged assistance.
Her fingers are much gentler as they explore his ribs, only causing small needlings of pain at which point she pulls back. The skin around the injured area has started to darken in color, matching blood much more closely than any normal irritation under skin would. It obviously denotes some future bruising.
“I believe only one of your ribs has broken, but it is likely the ribs alongside it are bruised. What caused the injury?” She asks clinically, propping pillows behind his back as she talks.
“I heard a cracking noise while coughing and fainted. When I came to the old physician exacerbated the injury,” Techno explains. Her brows furrow at the news but she nods her head regardless, transferring him to the pillows before scrounging around in her bag.
“It is not unheard of for bad coughs to cause such an injury. Treating the cough and rest is the only real way to prevent further injury,” She explains while pulling out some instruments. He looks at them a bit skeptically and is a bit relieved that she only picks up a glass thermometer.
The rest of the exam goes similarly to the one he received what feels like ages ago, with the woman delivering the same diagnosis of a chest infection. It’s almost a relief that he at least doesn’t have a collapsed lung or something that went untreated. She dishes out a few doses of medication before helping him lay down again and he desperately hopes one of the pills was for pain.
“Should you need to do much moving, I will bind your ribs so they won’t shift as much,” The girl says. “I’ll visit in a couple hours to check on your fever and pain. Have someone get me if you need something before then.”
“Thank you,” Techno whispers. She smiles a bit at the words, nodding while packing up her supplies. She at least seems nicer than the old doctor, if lacking some respect. Maybe she’s just from a town further from the castle. He’s heard that they’re more casual there. Casual and nice is at least better than casual and rude. “What is your name?”
The girl clicks the latches on her bag closed and turns to him, face open.
“You can call me Niki.”
—
Niki ends up being a permanent fixture at the castle, flitting in and out of his room every few hours to take Techno's vitals and prod at his wounds and shove medicine down his throat. It kind of implies that his advisor gave up on trying to find him a new doctor after the first one she could find in only a couple hours, but at least Niki seems to be more qualified than his first impression of her.
She also hasn’t gained much respect in the time since their first meeting. For some reason, it doesn’t bother Techno as much as it usually does when people are impolite. Maybe it’s because it seems like Niki at least listens to what he says before responding, even if she decides to disagree with him. Or maybe because he’s pretty sure they’re similar in age—though hopefully Niki’s at least a couple years into her twenties since she’s working as a doctor, but with her, who knows. Regardless, it feels less like she’s looking down her nose at him like he’s a child or an idiot, and more like she just treats everyone like that.
Also, she’s kind of entertaining. Techno hardly had the time or propriety to care whether his associates are interesting to talk to or be around, partially because it’s basically assured that they are resolutely not. Aside from maybe the old Head Guard Pete who seemed happy to be around and teaching him, everyone else is boring at best. So, Techno supposes it’s a bonus that all the hours he spends being tortured by Niki’s prying fingers, he at least gets a few laughs out of it. Which ends up jolting his ribs, so probably not ideal right now, but nice nonetheless.
A few days after Niki became the official palace doctor and his fever seems to have peaked and dropped already, she sets her eyes on his broken arm and wrist. She sits down at his bedside and starts picking at the splint with focused eyes, seeming to have forgotten someone is attached to the limb.
“It does not inspire confidence in me that an arm split requires so much of your concentration,” Techno says
“All procedures require full concentration,” Niki argues back, peering at the different angles of the binding before finally looking back at his face. “How long ago did you break your arm?”
“Around two months or so.”
“I’m going to check how it is healing.” Techno nods in assent, watching as she fetches a flat board to place his forearm on so it can stay still while she unwraps it. The past doctor had changed the bandages every couple of weeks after the small wound in his skin scabbed over. It’s still slightly uncomfortable when the tight bindings are removed and his bones seem to push out against his skin without the restraints.
Niki immediately starts rubbing her fingers over all his bones, looking at the almost healed cut with scrutiny and humming as her fingers grace the broken portions of the bones.
“How did your arm break exactly?” Niki asks.
“I caught my fall during sword training and it just snapped,” Techno says, shrugging his left shoulder. It jostles his left hand ribs, forcing him to breath carefully as Niki levels him with an unimpressed look before turning back to her work.
“The wrist and forearm are broken, right?” Niki asks.
“Yes, one of the wrist bones.”
“Hm.” Niki hums flatly. Considering she is currently staring down at his arm it is not a welcome noise.
“Hm? That’s not something doctor’s should say,” Techno says. She only laughs at his wariness, pulling her fingers away from his arm as her shoulders shake a bit before replacing them.
“It’s alright. The bones are still aligned which is good but there’s more swelling than I’d expect at this point,” Niki says. Techno hums in response, hoping that’ll mean he’ll get his dominant hand back soon. He needs to write so badly and considering how long it took for his normal handwriting to become passable, he doesn’t have nearly enough time to try learning with his left hand. “Honestly, I’m more confused about how you broke two bones in a short fall.”
“I don’t know. It was the sort of thing I’ve done a million times in training, it was a surprise for everyone,” Techno says. A small frown pulls at his lips at the memory. He had definitely been pushed much closer to injury during training than that day and never got more than scrapes and bruises. It was a real freak accident, which is probably the worst kind considering.
What a stupid reason for him to lose swordfighting.
“Yes… Two broken bones in your arm and a broken rib,” Niki says slowly. His brows furrow at the mention, realizing that it is a little strange that he’s suddenly breaking a high percentage of bones. In the past, Techno had only broken a couple bones in attacks that were specifically trying to end his life. This is definitely abnormal.
“What could that mean?” Techno asks.
“Probably nothing. Just try to be more careful maybe,” Niki says quickly. He squints in a bit of disbelief before she meets his eyes plainly, appearing truthful.
“Gee, I’ll try,” Techno says sarcastically, rolling his eyes and everything. It makes Niki laugh again, which takes away some of the embarrassment of actually rolling his eyes in front of someone like some bratty kid.
“I guess I’ll have to have them order some more bandages,” Niki says, starting to rewrap his arm and wrist with fresh cloth. As the hard pieces of the splint are placed over the bandages he wrinkles his nose in discomfort, arm pounding in irritation. He hopes there won’t be any need for more bandages, he’s had his fill of injuries lately.
So all in all, it might not be a high challenge, but Niki is certainly the best doctor Techno’s met. Which brings them to a sort of impasse right now.
“Nope.”
Techno levels a flat look at Niki’s back where she doesn’t even bother turning around from where she’s shifting through her things. He huffs in light annoyance, shoving his palms against the bed and trying to lever himself up, face screwing up in pain. She swings around at a small noise he lets out, immediately darting over to him and forces him to lay back down.
“Stop it, oh my Gods do you want to pop a lung?” Niki asks, looking annoyed.
“I need to go to the meeting. It’s with important people,” Techno tries to argue. Then he wonders why he is arguing with his doctor to be able to do his job. Niki squints her eyes down at him a little further and he remembers.
“I’m sure everyone you meet is very important, but your health is important too,” Niki says. A small sigh breaks from Techno’s lips at the genuine concern he hears at the edge of the statement.
“Yes, but this is a different sort of situation. National security,” Techno tries to explain without spilling any details. Niki’s face only sharpens further, almost out right scowling down at him. “Please bind my ribs so I don’t drown in my blood.”
“... Alright, alright. Just, try not to move around so much and see me when you’re done,” Niki gives in.
“Thank you,” Techno says. And then he remembers that he is just asking her to make sure he doesn’t die. “Hey, actually no thank you. This is your job.”
Niki giggles a little bit at the retraction, helping him sit up much more carefully.
“It’s also my job to make sure you don’t get yourself killed. You still have a low grade fever,” Niki defends, pulling some light weight bandages from her bag.
Techno sits up straight, wincing as it pulls on his ribs, and tries to sit perfectly still as she begins winding the cloth around his chest. It’s much looser than the bandages around his wrist, causing much less discomfort than he thought. Considering every time he breathes in it causes his head to get spotty from pain, it’s probably a good thing in regards to his upcoming meeting.
With a final tug she secures the bandages around his ribs and pulls away, looking over her work with visible judgement. Techno decides to think that she is judging her bandages and not his exposed abdomen. After a few seconds she deems her work as good enough and begins packing her supplies up.
Techno stands with much effort and begins collecting some formal clothes, not much looking forward to changing into the stiff fabric after getting to lounge around in comfortable clothes for a few days. He glances at himself in the mirror and can’t help wrinkling his nose a bit. His hair is making a good attempt at pretending to be a bird’s nest, pale pink seeming very vibrant against his pallid skin. He quickly glances away from the image, pulling out all his brushes and such.
“Do you need any help?” Niki asks, drawing his attention back to her.
“No, I can still dress myself yet,” Techno says, tone taking on a bitter edge. Niki fiddles absently with her bag clasps for a second, idling in the room. Techno raises an eyebrow at her even though she’s no longer looking at his face.
“Well, I more meant: do you want my help getting ready or should I fetch a servant for you?” Niki asks. It takes a couple seconds for the question to really sink in, confusion making his brow heavy above his eyes.
“What?” Techno voices his utter confusion. Niki twists her fingers together nervously, looking a bit uncomfortable herself. She pulls in a large breath as if preparing herself before speaking again
“Your Head Advisor let me know that you apparently need help becoming presentable. I offered, so.”
So indeed. Of course his Advisor would jump on any little chance to knock his legs out below him. Techno had foolishly waved off the small comments about his loose hair and slightly less prim clothes that he opted for occasionally due to exhaustion. Of course it was some omen for chagrin to come.
Gods how horrifying. He’s not even allowed to dress himself anymore? Or at least do his own hair and accessories. Techno actually takes pride in his hair despite not caring for appearances in general, including his own. He’d put time into learning how to do it and make it look nice, hold his crown up delicately. Now he’s back to being five years old with a maid yanking tangles from his hair before every public appearance, kneeling on the floor before their rough hands.
“It’s not a big deal. I’m better at hair than I look,” Niki tries to joke. It falls flat at Techno’s feet.
On one hand, Techno would prefer Niki help him with those sorts of things than any of his other servants. He doesn’t know them well and Techno trusts Niki with his health well enough. It’s not too big of a leap.
But it’s also just a thread too shameful to ask for such a thing. For Niki to see him in that position. Which maybe is stupid since doctors see patients in worse sorts all the time, and Techno probably wouldn’t care in that case. If he needed surgery Niki would have free ranged over his insides. But for some reason, he doesn’t want Niki to have to see him made useless by someone else.
“No. Just fetch a servant,” Techno says, turning away from her. His face burns hotter than even a fever could cause, adding stark red color to his paper white skin. She at least leaves at the words, leaving Techno to sigh to himself miserably.
Techno presses his face into his palms, elbows leaned against the dresser. He needs to suck it up and get it together. No matter what his Advisor tries to pull over him, Techno still needs to stay standing as King at the end of the day. He has nobles to address. Get over it.
Techno stands and pulls on most of his clothes as quickly as he can while moving stiffly from pain before a servant enters the room. They bow and move around passively, barely looking at him as they help him into his coat and accessories and other expensive little ends.
Techno’s pushed into a chair after he’s fully dressed, hair pulled behind him as it’s combed through. He allows his eyes to go fuzzy instead of focusing on himself in the mirror or closing his eyes to the stranger at his back. At least he’s not made to sit on the floor. He’d never get over that embarrassment. The fingers in his hair aren’t particularly rough, but every tug seems to make his scalp tingle uncomfortably. It is not a pleasant feeling.
Eventually his hair is pinned up into something fancy and only slightly uncomfortable. Whenever someone else does his hair, the pins always seem to jab too close to his skin and stay uncomfortable throughout. It looks nice enough. The servant goes to grab his crown but Techno is quick to snag it first, placing it on his own head until it sits comfortably. The servant doesn’t mention it, only silently beginning to pin it in place.
“Do you need anything else Sir?” The servant asks politely as they finish, stepping away from him.
“No, thank you,” Techno says, waving his hand in dismissal. The servant bows again and leaves the room, allowing Techno to let out another sigh.
There, he survived. No reason for drama. He looks over himself more closely in the mirror. Locks of his hair curl around each other, held stiffly in place under his crown. More fancy than he’d do to himself, but it’s fine. His actual body remains looking a bit droopy despite his good posture. If anything his skin has gotten paler from sitting up, bruise colored smudges making their way around his eyes. He quickly rubs some white powder over it, not really masking the spots but making them less noticeable. Good enough.
Finally he forces himself to stand and start out of the room. Techno almost wishes he has given in to Niki now and played off sick, body feeling generally weak and achy in that way that just urges for him to lay down. Alas, nobles have decided to cause problems on purpose. As usual.
Dealing with nobles and important people is basically the only task his advisors want to shove onto him. Which Techno admits is an important job. If nobles cause problems that would be problematic for everyone. Waring internally needs to be avoided. But also, Techno would rather do literally anything else than talk pleasant with nobles. Managing finances and commerce, sure. Talking with awkward and uncomfortable commoners, honestly better. Hell, mucking around in the stables with the freaking royal horses? Literally preferable.
But no, gossipy, judgey, usually drunk nobles is his task. For some reason.
Techno’s not one to hold loads of respect or reverence for past rulers, but he commends any that had managed to actually succeed easily at this portion of their job. But, come to think of it, if talking with nobles is easy for a King or Queen, they’re probably either intelligent enough to actually deserve respect or as dull and harebrained as the nobles themselves.
Regardless of Techno’s pointless musings, he finds himself at the doorway to the dining room where the meeting is being held. The doors are propped open, guards milling about, apparently on high alert for the important visitors. Techno eyes them hesitantly as he passes by. At least the nobles themselves are extremely unlikely to dirty their hands with a direct attack on him. Telling a servant or guard to do it though… possible. Techno picks out the most familiar looking guard and chooses the chair at the head of the table that’s closest to them.
Techno claps his hands a couple times after sitting down, drawing the room’s attention to himself. Usually he’d wait till some advisor tried to start the meeting and just zone out for a bit, but he’d honestly like to get this over with as soon as possible.
The sounds of scrapping chair legs against the ground makes his brain stab with pain. He is not looking forward to the soon to be loud high pitched voices to join the mix.
“Welcome everyone, let’s begin.”
Multiple people begin speaking at once, making Techno let out a silent sigh before trying to parse through them. It’s not surprising that this set of nobles are particularly… rowdy. The further regions of the Empire tend to foster more agitation in the nobles that precede over them. It’s been essentially happening since the inception of the country, resulting in a few failed uprisings and changes in lordship. Even Techno’s advisors can’t be upset at him not keeping these particular nobles content.
Finally the nobles have figured out that they can’t talk over each other and actually be heard.
“Troops continue to be positioned in my territory despite promises that they would be gone by the beginning of the year,” One of the nobles cuts in, essentially glaring at Techno.
“Who did you get that promise from?” Techno can’t help asking. The noble has the gall to look offended, as if he hadn't tried to put words into Techno’s mouth or something. “And regardless, the territory which you manage is in a tactical position against Lediis. Troops will need to remain there for the foreseeable future until tensions are thoroughly resolved. We appreciate you shouldering the responsibility.”
The noble’s mouth flaps open a few more times, letting out more unhappy noises. Irritation easily burrows its way into Techno’s head. Both he and the noble know why troops are in that position and that they can’t be moved, and yet the noble raises the issue purely to have a thing to complain about. It’s such a waste of time. But also not like Techno didn’t go into this meeting knowing that he would be wasting his time trying to temper the emotions of random nobles. His job isn’t really to offer solutions, it’s to make friends.
Ugh, Techno would prefer literally anything else.
“I would like to raise an issue that many of my subjects have raised themselves. They are unable to fulfill the tax requirements placed on the fishing industry at this point. It is very likely that protests may erupt should they remain in place,” Another noble cuts in.
“Taxes on that industry are static. There have been no issues in the other fishing regions, why do your ‘subjects’ have such issues with it?” Techno asks. There’s been some unrest among the whaling industry, but Techno’s heard no complaints from the fishing sect. This noble doesn’t rule over many whalers anyway.
“Well, with the introduction of the new wealth taxes, it’s affected all people, as we warned.” Techno can practically feel his eye twitch.
“We’re not here to negotiate that tax. It has been decided for years at this point. I recommend lifting your sectors taxes, as if there are protests, there are no troops available to put it to rest.”
“This was the last case scenario for us already! The wealth tax is just too high.”
“I must agree. Repositioning the burden has been troublesome for many of us,” Another noble cuts in.
Ah, so now they’re all on the same side. Half of the nobles in this room have caused trouble with each other that took precious time and resources, but a tiny wealth tax is far enough to unite them. Even the church hasn’t complained this much and they were taxed the same.
“Bring it up during petitions. We are not here to discuss that.” Techno drones.
Techno has to bodily force his spine straight in the chair where his shoulders were naturally slouching. The hard edges dig into his bones, causing a sharp ache to set in. He’s already exhausted and the meeting’s barely begun.
As the squabbles of the nobles continue to fill the air like flies over a festering wound, a hazy sort of heat falls over Techno’s head. He finds it difficult to follow along with the jittery conversations, shifting away from the topic at hand almost more often than it sticks to it. Luckily it seems that the nobles hardly care about Techno’s monosyllabic answers, continuing to argue regardless of what he says.
At this point Techno doesn’t even know why he decided to come to this meeting. Basically nothing is being done and the nobles are just as perturbed as usual. He could have had a headache and aching chest in the quiet of his own room at least. But not showing up would have appeared like a personal slight to this group. Even if they know nothing will come of their complaints, if Techno didn’t listen to them there’d be even more hell to pay.
Techno feels a bit bizarre sitting in the chair and staring over the room. The lights simultaneously seem too bright and too dim. His back and ribs ache terribly from the hard chair, but he also feels kind of numb, the tips of his fingers tingling. His lungs feel empty of oxygen but he can’t force a deeper breath in without irritating his broken bones.
A muted sort of panic sets in when Techno realizes he has no idea what anyone is talking about. Or more accurately, it’s like the words enter his ears but they all feel disconnected and empty of meaning. Faint ringing needles the back of his eardrums, matching the uncomfortable bubbling under his skin. The nobles continue opening and closing their mouths regardless, spewing out sounds while undeterred by Techno’s silence.
It’s almost funny that Techno is falling out of the world, barely conscious, and everyone around him is just going on as usual. The nobles caused such a ruckus just so they could get this meeting and then they don’t even seem to notice that Techno isn’t listening to them. The figure of his Head Advisor is just barely visible out of the corner of his eye, standing nearby but not really interacting. Usually she’d jump to be involved in anything, so maybe this really is just totally pointless. Goes to figure his only real job would be one where he’s not even needed.
Eventually Techno gives up and shifts his focus solely to measuring his breaths. He feels quite close to fully passing out, and considering the encroaching black spots on his vision, it isn’t just exaggeration on his part. His fingers jitter around on his lap. Balling his hands up into fists, Techno tries to focus on the feeling of his nails against skin as opposed to the weakness in his body.
He can not pass out in the middle of a meeting. Or preferably around literally anyone, but around nobles who already are borderline treasonous is definitely the least ideal. They’d take that and run wild. It’d be spread to the furthest regions of the kingdom faster than an actual royal declaration. Gossip tends to do that, Techno supposes.
Dealing with an uprising before he even gets sworn in as King beyond ceremonial titles would basically sing the end of his reign. Not many rulers end up sticking around when a fully formed rebellion gains traction, let alone early in their rule. Techno might have been King for years, but most people still see him as a new King, a child King. Having nobles throw doubt on his power any further would be catastrophic. There are already whispers about him not being in good health, who knows how far that’s spread.
One of the guards shifts towards his back, startling Techno into a small jolt that sends his head reeling even further. He forces shaky breaths into his lungs, trying to force himself to get it together and hold out until the end of the meeting.
Things are going normally. Everyone is still sitting at the table and are normal amounts of upset. There is no reason to get paranoid over his position. He should just try and listen back into the conversation and hopefully come up with some solution to at least satisfy the nobles for now. His brows furrow with the effort to hear through the ringing in his ears and he has to stop himself from wiping away the thin layer of sweat wetting his face.
Techno could almost cry in joy when a servant tip toes into the room, whispering into the ear of an attendant. None of the nobles seem to have noticed them yet, but Techno knows they are asking if it is alright to serve a meal. Which would bring an end to this particular meeting and give Techno an excuse to slip away. There’s no way in hell that Techno is sitting through a meal with these people, he just needs to formulate the right words to get away.
“Pardon my intrusion, dinner is ready to be served should you find it appropriate,” The attendant steps up to alert the room. Techno quickly nods in agreement, mirrored a bit more reluctantly by the nobles. Free food and wine is enough to persuade them in the end though, and they begin drawing their conversations to an end.
“Your Majesty, I must ask if you have been feeling well as of late? I have heard news of you feeling unwell,” One of the nobles says to Techno as the talking dies down. Techno has to hold back a sigh at the directed question. Like these people actually care.
“Yes, a small infection has been going through the city. Luckily I have recovered, and here’s to hoping you and your families stay safe as well,” Techno says levelly, sitting up straight. Hopefully none of the nobles will have the gall to push the topic after such an obvious closure.
It is a bit worrying that he has confirmation that the nobles have been talking about him in such detail, but it is realistically not that surprising. It seems that royalty, and him as the King, are an object of great interest to all aristocrats. He should be used to it by now, and in many ways he is. It is just a bit concerning when he knows they could be working behind his back together. Nobles as separate forces aren’t much to worry about but if they unite, it is possible for them to overpower the King.
“Apologies, but I must leave you all for now. I am looking forward to seeing you later this month at the banquet. We can talk more there,” Techno says as he stands. A few of the nobles instinctively open their mouths to say who knows what, but Techno forces himself to smile a bit even as his vision grays out completely from the change in elevation.
The mention of the banquet seems to at least quiet them for now, probably planning how they will raise their arguments in that setting instead. Techno quickly turns to leave before he lets a scowl break through his features. A few goodbyes ring out as he leaves the room. As he passes his Head Advisor, he avoids her disgruntled face. She’d probably want him to eat with the nobles and keep talking to them, but Techno’s a bit more focused on not getting sick in front of them, so. His advisor can cope.
His shoes click loudly against the ground as he takes uneven steps away from the room. The eyes of the guards seem to track him as he moves through the halls, making his skin crawl even worse. He hurries as quickly as his clumsy feet will take him away from all the people to the solace of his room.
Techno barely gets through taking his crown out of his hair and pulling his shoes off before he has to lay down on his bed to stop himself from collapsing. He’s too tired to even squirm under the tucked in blankets and small shivers wrack his body. Regardless, he falls under a hazy layer of sleep, head cushioned against his tightly wound up hair, pins poking into his scalp.
“You were supposed to visit me.”
Techno blinks quickly awake, jerking upwards to find the source of the sound. Niki’s unamused frame stands a few paces away from his bed, hands on her hips and everything while she stares down at him. The harsh tension in his muscles bleeds out as fast as it had entered them at the sight, leaving them aching sharply. He slumps back against the pillows with a small noise, not really feeling up for responding.
She takes a few steps closer to him, sitting at his bedside with a sigh. The edge of the glass thermometer soon taps against his lips and Techno automatically opens his mouth for it.
“You’d better have saved the world for all the hassle,” Niki says. He sits quietly since the thermometer is still in his mouth, until Niki finally pulls it out.
“Just about,” Techno responds sarcastically. If Niki notices she doesn’t say anything, just shifting her things about.
“Your fevers spiked again. Maybe listen to me when I order bed rest?” Niki says. She presses a few pills into his hand. He has to sit up to take them, and even the few seconds of elevation makes him feel shaky. Niki pushes him back against the pillows after he takes them.
“Sure,” Techno says, closing his eyes.
“You’d better listen to your doctor from now on. If the King dies under my watch, I think I’ll be tried for treason.”
“Well, if my dying would be inconvenient for you…” Techno trails off. It elicits a small snort from Niki before she sits back quietly at his attending chair.
Techno jolts a bit again when fingers find their way into his hair, gently pulling the fastenings out of the locks and teasing them loose. Falling asleep is easier than he’d thought it would be with someone else in the room, touching his hair and everything. Techno chalks it up as the renewed fever leaving him exhausted.