A number of you are sent straight to Fhirdiad to warn King Rufus, only to arrive too late. The guards say that he is with two young princesses, a “Celica” and a “Corrin”, and are naturally aghast when they find out the truth. That said, this must be dealt with carefully: the king’s, nay, all of House Blaiddyd’s reputation is on the line, and an embarrassment of this magnitude would shame the family for generations to come. There is only one option: to don a variety of disguises as you follow after the king’s date night through the market district and separate him from the ‘princesses’. [Grants Heavy Armor +1]
Odin can hardly believe that the king actually bought a Corrin wearing shoes.
But deep down, he knows not everyone can be a master of disguise. Managing to wangle the costume back into his hands, he’s donning the garb of his lord Leo for the second time now: a task he always wanted to perform again, but was never given the chance. And, to his credit, it’s actually a convincing outfit. His facial structure and locks of snipped blonde are easy to pass off as the prince’s, and though there is a slight height difference to the two men, it’s negligible to the untrained eye. No, where his charade often... Falls apart, is in his ability to act with the same cynicism and pragmatic curtness as his liege. Odin is, simply put, a much different breed.
It’s worked in Nohr, though. So here’s hoping it’ll fool Faerghus.
“At last we arrive!” he announces, like himself and not at all like Leo, and with a flaring pose to boot, “Hark, for this is the stuff of legends! Two brave heroes, going undercover in the guise of night to liberate a mighty monach from the chilling woes of an imposter! Aren’t you excited, Laslow?” His old friend’s face is sought out for the same kind of excitement that shines on his, but quickly realizing his mistake, Odin fumbles his words to correct himself, “Er, I mean, Definitely-Not-Laslow, for I am the umbral Prince Leo, here to reclaim mine beloved maiden of yore... And I love tomatoes!”
Is he selling it too much? He’s definitely selling it too much.
‘Bad’ is a generous way of putting things. But if Rufus is so easy to trick with that shoddy Corrin and lackluster Celica, there is hope yet for our Avenger of Righteous Justice. The three are just in view now, striding across the bustling market scene to peruse some of the Kingdom’s vendors. In spite of the time of day the streets are packed, likely due to the excitement of bearing witness to the very trio that Odin and Laslow are tailing now. Craning his neck around the people in front of him reveals to Odin that they are taking their time with some pelted furs--likely an early winter preparation. He’d laugh were he not trying to pass off as cool and mysterious, for even in the frigid ice tribes of his second home, Odin’s raging blood was all he needed to keep warm.
Regardless, the stage is set for the duo to make their entrance. As the merchant puts on his most suave face and smooths his hand over a sheepskin like puffy clouds, the King’s finger comes to rest at his chin. It is evident that he’s thinking about something, and likely to seek the second and third opinion’s of his celebrity entourage. It’s perfect. All Odin needs is the confirmation from Laslow that he is ready, and he’d make his way over posthaste.
