7 Marketing (1/2)
A sharp glint of light bounced off the edges of the crossed halberds and landed on Corco's face.
”Lords and Ladies! Your Majesty! Now, for the grand attraction of the evening!”
Under the flamboyant voice of Bombasticus from beyond the door, Corco stared into the polished axe heads before him.
”However, first I will ask your majesty to pick a card. Any from within this ordinary deck will do.”
It was soon time for his grand entry, so the prince decided to go over his appearance one final time. The halberd reflected back the new look he had been sporting for half a year. Whitened, clean shaven skin and black hair to his shoulders, parted down the middle and slicked back.
”Please do not show the card to me or anyone else. It will serve as proof of the medium's authenticity.”
His wear was somewhat crooked, so Corco grabbed the hem of his shirt to reorganize a bit. The tailor-made suit was something he was especially fond of, a style of clothing from the other world. For his purpose, it was perfect. Strange enough on Arcavia to give an air of mystery, but the elegant design and expensive fabric distinguished him from the bright, patchy colors of common traveling folk. He would rather not be accused of eating children by an enraged mob, so they had spent a great deal on their appearances, to not be mistaken for entertainers.
”Thus, please allow me to introduce: The great medium, the seer of seers, the Great Master Corcopaca Fastgrade!”
Without sound, the halberds before him slid to the side. Corco followed them with his gaze until he locked eyes with one of the two grumpy guards who had barred his way until now. A short wink towards the guard and he was off to the fruits of their labor, the high court of Eniila.
A great bit of smoke and noise obscured his entrance as he traveled over the raw sandstone floor of the hall. Kneeled by the door, Brym was throwing firecrackers again to make the medium's entrance more spectacular. At least this room didn't have any flammable furniture. That kind of oversight had almost cost them dearly back in Cahlia. With upright posture, hands held behind his back and large, swift strides, Corco stepped through the ill-smelling clouds and soon found himself in front the collected lords and ladies of Eniila, seated on comfortable looking, deep chairs set up in a neat row. Small tables had been fastened to the chairs, to house the food and drink the great nobles would enjoy during their time of leisure. Corco found no throne, despite the room being a supposed court.
”Your majesty has chosen the five of kings, truly a choice befitting of a noble heir.” Before anyone could say a word, Corco opened up to give his prediction. He wouldn't want to be accused of cheating again, so the prince had cut down on the theatrics when he had refined his performance over the past months. The result was exactly as desired.
King Sabian's eyes turned into slits from his smile as he nodded in satisfaction. The man's white-streaked chin beard left his face uncovered and made it easy to read his emotions. Good, that could be useful later. After his approval, the king revealed the card in his hand to his surroundings. Five kings were printed on the paper. In recent years, printing machines had been getting more and more wide-spread all throughout Arcavia. With the increased availability of paper and printed materials, playing cards had similarly spread across the fourty-four nations of Arcavia and become a favorite past time of the rich and high born.
”Truly, as expected from the mysterious medium of the west. We have heard great tales.”
Of course the king would be happy. In Arcavia, the number five was linked with great prosperity. Paired up with the suit of kings it was truly a good omen. Corco still preferred the more abstract suits in his memories, like spades and diamonds, but for their purposes, the more expressive cards were even more useful. Although Bombasticus had spent a lot of time learning how to force a card onto someone without their knowledge, it had been worth it. To the man's dismay, the alchemist had a natural talent for stage tricks. He would have to bear with the humiliation. After all, that was the deal they had struck back in Etra.
”No need for undue praise, your majesty. Not until the actual reading has taken place.”
A snort disguised as a laugh interrupted the harmonious atmosphere. A younger noble, seated close to the king, had his arms crossed and a frown on his face. He also had an entirely different opinion from everyone else.
”A cheap trick, nothing more. How would the word of a charlatan have any weight within the high court?”
The king's frown barely registered with Corco, as did the shocked looks of the other nobles. He was already focused on the disturbance, looking for points of attack. Young and strong, with a beard similar to the king's. His posture was forward leaning, which gave an aggressive impression. His clothing and hair were a bit unkempt, at least for a member of nobility. Corco spotted the emerald ring hung from a chain around his neck, a typical symbol of martial might around these parts, and usually worn on the finger, unless it was a memento. It would be a good start.
”Milord, if this charlatan may, before I am thrown from this noble hall, I have a message to deliver to you.” Corco answered before the angry king could. He would rather keep the atmosphere happy.
”Hah! Try your worst, trickster! Valtr of Kaneas will not be fooled!”
Corco retained his shallow smile as he made a mental note of the name. Another bit of information to be used. He had tried cold reading, the art of pretending knowledge, before. After a good bit of practice, he had gotten a basic handle on things. He was by no means an expert, but usually his appearance, assured attitude and the wide-spread superstition of the people did most of the work anyways.
”In my dream last night appeared a man. He said that to lord Valtr, he was... a father figure of sorts.”
A sneer formed on the man's face.
”That's all? As I said, parlor tricks, no more. Who was the man, if I may ask the great medium?”
”He would not tell me his name, but I could see a darkness in his torso... his chest or abdomen. It must have been the cause of his death.”
Upon hearing the word 'abdomen', Valtr's sneer turned into a frown.
*Abdomen it is.*
Corco made another mental note.
”The man told me... that he understood how Milord was still lost in grief over the loss, every now and then. He knew there are many things Milord would want to apologize for or clear up.”