Intimidated or not, the kid didn't move, which almost made Tor want to cheer. It was hard to stand like that, looking up at someone nearly twice your height and not get out of the way. Tor knew the feeling himself. It was like they could trip and crush you at any moment.
The very large man, dressed in incredibly nice blue and black clothing didn't try to push the smaller figure out of the way at least. He just stood arguing to be let in, as the boy rather politely refused him, his brown haired head nodded as he spoke as if trying to influence the man to agree with him through force of will.
It wasn't working.
That could be done, theoretically, but it would take some kind of direct effect, which required a vast amount of focus, as well as knowing what you were doing. Tor couldn't do it. Not yet at least. Or at least he’d never tried it, which wasn’t exactly the same thing.
“Um... My Lord Morris? I was told to not let anyone in to see Master Tor. If you'd like to make an appointment with him, there's a list, you see, and a few people ahead of you, but if you wish I can put a good word in with the Master and try to gain you an earlier time slot... He's working almost non-stop though, making things for the war effort right now, so-” The boy wasn't someone Tor knew really, a page? That seemed likely; the pages were all small boys that he'd noticed, or small girls with short, boy like, haircuts. He hadn't talked to a lot of them yet, which was obviously an oversight on his part if some of them were going to be acting as his personal guardians like this. He'd kind of thought they just ran messages back and forth. Apparently they were expected to do more than that.
Like stare down giants.
The big man looked over at Tor and noticed that his eyes had opened. He tried to walk past the kid only to find that he wouldn't budge at all. Heh. Morris, who was probably a Count given the name, Tor decided, frowned.
“I'm a Count boy! Get out of my way or I'll have you whipped and hung by your thumbs for good measure!” The Count, who must have been nearly six-eight compared to the smaller figures five-two or so, bristled and started to draw his hand back to strike with a backhand. Afraid or not, the small figure in brown didn't move out of the way, even as he cringed from the proffered blow.
“I wouldn't.” A soft voice came from the hallway behind the count, male and deep, a bass rumble even compared to Morris, the feeling that loomed was familiar, even though the bits of skin and hair Tor could make out seemed too dark to be his friend right now.
Prince Alphonse. Or, as Tor knew him, Rolph, his buddy, and roommate from school. In disguise, sort of at least.
“I can almost guarantee you that if you strike a child in his presence Tor won't make anything for you, ever. In fact he'll probably come over and kick your ass right here in the hall. Don't think he can't either. I suppose you could try it and see if I'm lying, but really, getting your name on a list is about the best you can do here right now. I'd just take that and leave quietly, or at least start trying to be a bit more civil with our staff.” It wasn’t his normal tone, but Rolph sounded a little cold. Like ice. It was his half whispering that did it.
A deep chuckle came from someone that Tor couldn't see at all, “Too right Bertie. I'm marrying his sister, and we're close personal friends, he was the one that introduced us even, and I still have to sign up to visit with him myself. No fair jumping the line here.” There was good humor in the voice, which Tor recognized as belonging to Count Toverland Morehouse Thomson. Tovey, a friend of his from school, back when they'd all gone. Forever ago it seemed. Months even. It was nice that the blond giant had come to visit. Now if they could just get rid of this other Count...
Count Morris bristling a little, which Tor understood. Tovey may be the man’s equal in social rank and position, but he was also only about twenty-one years old. Or was it twenty still? Tor was pretty sure he'd missed that birthday, along with his own and Rolph's. Working too much to pay attention. The Prince and he were both eighteen now and had been for a while. Really he needed to get himself caught up on presents pretty soon, or at least send out a card or two. Not to mention all the ones he'd missed with his own family back in Two Bends, and all the people back at his own house. They were his guests after all, in a way, even if they lived and worked there full time. Which made them family, didn't it? Tor hadn't realized how far behind he'd been falling on social obligations.
Hopefully people would cut him a little slack because of the war. The most recent event, County Ward in the southeast declaring war on the rest of the kingdom, kind of had everyone in an uproar. After all, the Wards, the Count and his young, incredibly bitchy, but beautiful, wife, had tried to kill nearly fifty people in the last months with poison. Who knew what else they'd been up to. Tor suspected they were working with the Austran nation, but couldn't really prove that yet.