The Last Minute Gift

Directory link to the site you are supporting:https://rpginitiative.com/directory/royals-rebels-r1221/

Entry:

Before him lay only splintered remains. Shards of wood and partial planks were scattered in malicious disarray on the floor. Lanval wrinkled his nose as he picked up one of the pieces, running through the possible suspects who would have the audacity to walk into his room and destroy the bookshelf he had gotten made for his lover. Good money, good effort, good resources, all wasted.

 

The booming of a bell in the distance broke his thoughts. Seven chimes. He was running out of time. She would be finished with her duties for the day soon, and if he had nothing for her when she arrived… He couldn’t let that happen.

 

He tossed the chip back into the pile then pulled open his wardrobe, rustling around for some tools he would need to fix this. Once found, he stuffed them onto his belt, closed the wardrobe again, then dahed out of his room, pulling the door closed behind him. His steps echoed against the stonework of the castle he called home, the seat of official power in the kingdom. Its vast halls housed as many of his friends as it did his enemies, both petty and grave. One of them smashed the bookshelf. So one of them was going to replace it. 

 

He knew who he blamed for it. There was one person, beyond all others, who would want to sabotage him like this. A rival of his since their days in the army together, and Lanval might have… recently done some things that would incur anger. Inspire retaliation. Which had to, of course, be met with further retaliation.

 

He turned the corner and grinned.

 

The door leading into the home of Andras Dagon had never looked so inviting. 

 

He slowed his pace, shuffling down the hall as a servant passed by him, carrying someone else’s supper in the opposite direction. His steps gradually slowed as he came to stand in front of the desired door. A quick glance to his right told him the servant had gone. A flicker of his eyes to the left told him no one was coming. Now was the moment he had. 

 

He slipped the tools from his belt into his hands, and slid down to the bottom hinge of the door first. A few stolen nails for later, he moved to the top. He stuffed the nails into a pocket, pleased with how well this was going. His hands quickly moved, though, when the door began to fall inwards instead of out. One hand grabbed the handle, the other reaching for the far side of the door. It fell awkwardly, the non-handled side striking the ground with a crash before he could grab it fully. He clenched his teeth at the noise, then snatched up the door and went scuttling back the way he came, moving as best he could with a door in his arms. 

 

He paused at the end of the hall, though, another idea coming to mind. He set the door against the wall, crept back over to the exposed entryway, and left a few coins in the threshold. He had been going to use the money to buy his lover another book for the new bookshelf, but, Andras would want something in return for the door, wouldn’t he?

 

It was impossible to avoid complete detection, moving through the halls like this. Too many resided in the castle for that to be possible. But no one interfered. They had all learned a rather long time ago it was best to not interfere. So instead they gave him odd glances over their shoulders, whispered about why he was carrying a door down the halls, then went about their business. It meant, of course, that Andras would know who stole his door, but that hardly mattered. The damage would be done by the time he could do anything. 

 

He leaned the door against his back as he opened the door to his room once more. He took a step forward, careful not to let the door fall as it slipped down a bit, to peer into his room. It was empty. He let out a sigh of relief and dragged the door inside. 

 

He set the door down on the desk in the corner of his room, hands hovering above it for a moment in case it was poorly balanced and started to fall. It did indeed, so he took the desk’s chair and placed it under the other end. Once secured, he went back over to his wardrobe and pulled out his sword. It wasn’t that he couldn’t have it displayed or whatever… he just preferred it in his wardrobe… along with everything else. It was just easier that way. 

Regardless, he walked back over to the desk with his sword, estimating about a third of the door by sight. Once he had it marked, he swung the sword. Once. Twice. Three times before a third of the door gave way, and both pieces clattered to the floor. He picked up the two-thirds piece, adjusted the chair, and repeated the process until he had three pieces of door, more or less the same size. 

 

He set the sword down on the desk and reached for the nails in his pocket when there came a knock at his door. 
He froze.

 

 She was here.

 

He forgot about the nails, and instead stood the two ends of the door up, polished side on the floor, beside the desk. Carefully, he placed the third piece on top of the two ends, creating… well, it was kind of like a shelf. He… hoped it would support books. 

 

The knock at his door came again. “Hold on!” He called as he then crawled over to the bed and pulled out her collection of books from under it. There weren’t many, but enough. He carried them back to the makeshift shelf and then very carefully, very meticulously, placed the books on top of it. It wobbled, but after a moment, it stayed. 

 

He could put the nails in later.

 

He stood, and stepped back. It would… work. She would… probably like it? This was incredibly stupid. But! It was done. He crept over to his door, a smile curling the edges of his lips. He opened the door, and pulled his lover into the room. He placed his hands over her eyes, kicked his door closed, then walked her over to in front of the shelf with her books. “Okay.” He took his hands away. “Surprise!”