Rodentia Adventures

EPILOGUE: LEON TAKES A WALK

~Enough! Ugh, you two are just impossible! I'm going to my room! 

And so, the mice were spared the wrath of the terrible Ahnyma Ex Mortis who instead teleported to her inner sanctum. There, surrounded by an audience of her floating minions of dark energy, she angrily ranted about how unfair life was, and how nobody understood her, to which the silent mouse-like entities would regularly and obediently nod in response. 

<3~

The transition had been an odd one, but not nearly as unpleasant as the former king had feared. He had expected mockery following his fall from grace, but in reality, nobody really seemed to care all that much. In truth, not much had changed in practice, either. He was still mostly in charge of policy, along with Myriandas, the Divider. He sighed, shaking his head. That awful, wonderful woman. On one hand, she was an endless pain, and the pair had already gotten into countless, often very public shouting matches over economic policy, leading to a potential compromise which would lead to a sort of paper currency, more consistent than crumbs, yet still edible in a pinch. Like many compromises, it had pleased neither of them. 

On the other hand, she was also someone that he actually could argue with, unlike most of the now greatly expanded royal staff, and especially that brother of his, who, the prince had to admit had opened his mind greatly these days, but was still incredibly clueless. Sure, during his rule, he may have had plenty of experience when it came to yelling and arguing with people, but virtually never with a true equal, someone actually capable of solid reasoning. Those debates, as regularly unproductive as they were, inspired passions within both of them that bordered on intoxicating. The pair were soon to be wed, a decision that both agreed just made good economic sense, even it did lead to another issue: Myriandas had no desire to become a princess. In her mind they were vain, air-headed, and got themselves kidnapped with alarming frequency. She was, thankfully far more flexible in that regard than Jerin (he shuddered at the idea that he had almost ended up spending the rest of his life with that annoying child), and even he had to admit that the third point did represent a legitimate concern. That was, indeed, the sort of thing that happened to princess' very often. Increased security would need to be considered. 

Now, for the first time in who knows how long, he actually found himself walking among the citizenry. Nobody seemed to recognize the prince, his name much better known than his face, especially considering that unlike his brother, he didn't exactly have the most distinctive look about him. This suited him just fine. Not so long ago, the very idea of being out of the public eye had seemed like the worst fate imaginable, but it was actually nice nice to not have everyone's eyes on you, eager to catch you in a mistake. That sense of peace, however, as enjoyable as it was, would do nothing to solve the problem of his grumbling stomach. 

Johanas had returned to his position of royal chef. There was no question that the mouse was passionate and, in his own way, highly skilled. Still, was it really so much to ask to want a meal that wasn't covered in blood and scabs? Fortunately, he'd recently discovered a new method of food preparation, cooking things over a flame. The results of this were mixed, and would require a lot more experimentation. Right now, the only real known method was putting something, anything over heat until the color and texture had dramatically changed. Still, the chef had appreciated the fact that it offered a whole new sort of wound to collect, trophies of his battles with newer and more dangerous dishes. As for the prince, he had liked that these sorts of wounds, as ugly as they are, were far less likely to drip onto his plate. Still, the prince had found himself craving something, anything, that wasn't charred black. 

He couldn't help but notice just how crowded the street was, and soon discovered why. The general store had finally re-opened, and there was a line stretching as far as the prince could see, made up of mice eager to purchase the new "Warriors of Amaroosh" action figures. This title was, of course, meaningless gibberish, but adventuring parties needed some sort of title like that to keep them distinct from one another. The store itself had seen much better days, even if not many recently, barely standing upright, little more than a jumbled ruin. The inside was similarly a jumbled ruin, but that was hardly a change. For a little while there, Miss Mayweather had found herself in serious financial trouble. The prototypes for the new figures had represented a major investment, and just after she had sunk a large portion of her wealth into designing the Jerin version two figurine, she found herself needing to completely change her weapon and appearance!