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gerbiloftriumph · 18 days ago

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So, how old is King Graham, anyway? Speculation under the cut, with dev statements and other supporting details! (but it's all speculation.)

To begin, we need to decide how old Graham is in the knightly tournament. Lead concept artist Evan Cagle once had a Tumblr, and once answered fan questions, but it's since been deleted. With the power of Wayback, though....!

The relevant piece is here:

This is also how supported by files in the game itself are organized, by general age blocks.

(interestingly, Achaka isn't called by name in the game files, but simply called WellKnight.)

So, Graham is in his teens, for certain. Old enough to drive. One could argue he's 16, with that rodent license, as that's traditionally when kids learn to drive. But he's clearly planning on moving away from home, and he has been to school and graduated. "I started looking for knight jobs while I was still in the academy, but once I graduated all the opportunities had dried up."

I propose, therefore, that since he's clearly graduated, he's slightly older. My guess? 18. In America, at least, people tend to graduate high school at 18, maybe looking for colleges, and they're old enough to join the military (knighthood). Possibly 19 (I truly don’t think younger works for how old he Must be at minimum in ch2), but I'm going to stick to 18, personally. (Grachaka fans, enjoy!)

Also: "You don't like the taste of lanky teenager" doesn't preclude 18, let's go.

How long was he a knight for Daventry before he was king'd by Edward? That's very unclear. However, his model doesn't change much (I think his hair gets a little longer? or is that just his cowl), and his concept art doesn't change much (it's just a hat adjustment and that little bit of scruff that I love oh so much). So, he's probably not that much older between contestant and king.

We've got to do some speculation here, and I'm going to select 3 years as a royal knight of Daventry. That would give him time to grow as Edward's favorite and establish himself in the space, without necessarily changing too much facewise. Maybe it's less time based on how little he's physically changing at this point, but I need him to get into his 20s for chapter two for the concept art and model name, and Edward needs at least A Single reason to crown this kid, even if the guards do say that this tournament "could lead to the throne of Daventry itself!"

Therefore, I'm going to put him at 21 years old in the prologue.

21 is another milestone in America, where you can start drinking legally, so it feels right to me to put him here at a big change in his life, even if in Daventry he's almost certainly been enjoying that mead for a while now. ;)

He's crowned immediately upon his return to the castle with the mirror, so he's got to be king at 21.

HOWEVER. There's something coming up soon that requires him to be, at minimum, 22 years old at some point in this year, if not older. I'm very fond of character birthdays being the date the game came out. Therefore, Graham's birthday should be July 28th, as that's the day the reboot came out on PC (2015).

I'm also fond of the idea that each chapter takes place in a different season in Daventry, Ch1 obviously being Fall, Ch4 obviously being Winter, Ch3 seemingly Spring with those bright greens, which leaves Ch2 in Summer. Monsoon seasons are often in Summer, which lets the rain Graham experiences be a typical Daventrian summer. Perhaps, July?

I propose Graham turns 22 in his captivity. Prison birthday! Sorry, your majesty.

There's a specific reason he's got to be 22 here. It's the absolute youngest he can be, so it suits his concept art. Why?

Taylor Fey.

Bramble is pregnant, and while we're not sure how far along she is, we're going to say Taylor's due soon, because we need Graham to look like his teen self for concept art reasons, and we also need to get him into his 30s for his next mile marker in concept art and game model naming convention.

In chapter three, if you visit the Feys, you get this exchange:

Graham: "Where's Taylor?" Bramble: "He's at home. Probably cutting up our curtains again." Wente: "When I was that boy's age, I would roll dough for hours every day after school in me ma's shop. But not my boy. He doesn't have the stomach for hard work." Bramble: "Or the stomach for sweets. Can you imagine? An eight year-old, not liking sweets? It's not like frosting is an acquired taste."

Taylor will eventually move to Serenia, to become the tailor, haha.

But! The important thing! The conversation reveals that, in chapter 3, Taylor is eight years old. So, eight years have to pass between ch2 and 3, and Graham's got to be in his 30s.

Therefore, in the goblin prison, he needs to be 22 years old, at minimum. (also, sidebar of mostly irrelevance, if you go straight into a 4 year college after graduating high school at 18, you probably get your first real job at 22, mmm delicious imposter syndrome in your first real adult position, except you've got a kingdom on the line this time.)

So. In Chapter 3, he shall be, to me, exactly 30 years old. (he's probably going to turn 31 in a couple months, as I'm sure this chapter takes place in the spring, for how warm the days are and cold the nights are, as Graham complains about in the tower.)

That lets him hit all the markers he needs. Barely, sure, but it works so far.

Now, again, we need a liiiiiittle speculation. We need 18 years between Ch4 and the Ch4!Prologue, to account for Alexander. And Graham probably doesn't propose to Valanice right away again.

Now, the youngest he could be to make the ages and everything work is 32. But that's a remarkably fast dating, marriage, twin time turnaround. Neese might be into it, Vee probably wouldn't. So, we're going to age him a bit. So, he could be 32, but I think he'd rather be 34. That feels like they have time to court (properly this time), be engaged, prepare royal documentation and all the other things required, and then have twins.

(you could argue 33 too, or push it much older, 35 or 36 or more, if you wanted, so long as you don't push out of the 30s for the model name convention, but I'm going to settle here on 34, personally.)

The important part is that 18 years pass, for Alexander to grow as Gwydion and escape Manannan (if we want to be super pedantic, he's 17 and a bit, but whatever, this is fudging and speculation and I'm not carefully considering where Graham's birthday falls in the year either or I'd get confused).

So, he's about 52 years old now!

Fantastic. This is the last time we have Josh Keaton voicing our younger Graham, and then we leap ahead to Christopher Lloyd and our Huge Glorious Kingly Beard.

Chapter Five, thank you, finally. The devs give us an actual age.

Olfie: "Yeah, your skin does look fantastic for 86." Graham: "Well, that's a shame… I'm 77."

Thank you, thank you.

Now, we have one more age to hit. Bedridden modern Graham. We have a little cheat here, too. Not in the concept art, which just lists ?, but in the game models. He's in his 90s.

Alexander and Rosella are in their 50s in the modern day now, as their game models say. If my math is right, Alexander should be 43 in Ch5's adventuring portion. So I need to add at least 7 years to get the twins into their 50s in the modern sections.

I'm not great at math, and I'm juggling a lot here, so correct me if I'm wrong, but if my math is right, modern day Graham *should* be 84 at a minimum now. But his model says he's in his 90s.

But if we make Alexander 56 in the modern day, I think we can make Graham 90.

So, he's probably exactly 90, for the character model naming convention.

I dare not figure out how this fits in classic series--which isn't helped by Graham apparently having gray hair at a younger age probably due to that heart attack at the end of kq3.

So, there we have it. My personal bad math and staring at concept art and game files and trying to make guesses about my favorite king and his ages.

tl;dr:

Ch1 - 18 (graduated high school) Prologue - 21 (he needs to be in his 20s, this works) Ch2 - 22 ("happy birthday," sing the goblins, off-key) Ch3 - 30 (aaaalmost 31) Prologue 2: Electric Boogaloo - 34 (...maybe) Ch4 - 52 (depends on the ch4!prologue) Ch5 - 77 (huzzah, stated!) Modern Day - 90 (for the models' naming conventions)

But what do you think? Decent mathing? Totally wrong? Would rather take a stab at it yourself and get Gwendolyn and Gart's ages involved? Let me know~!

(edit: I was waiting for tea to steep, so I just hastily muttered my way through classic ages too, just because it's probably not that hard to line up, so...here's that:

#tin pointed out he’s 19 in the classic game’s hint guide so he could be 19

#I think he gets crowned at 19 then tho in the classics which…good luck dude

#I wonder where classics smoosh in there—it’s probably not that hard to be honest

#kq2 is just ch3

#kq3 and kq4 take place within days of each other when he’s 50something in ch4

#kq5 is probably a pretty quick turn around too#so if we say Graham is 52 in kq3 and 4

#let’s say he’s 53 or 54 at most in kq5

#and I think Alexander pines for a year so he’d be 55 or 56 in kq6

#alex probably marries cassima at 21 then

#and then maybe a year or two again for kq7 and rosella is probably 22 or 23

#I didn’t play kq8 hahaha

#mind if rosella is 56 and I think Gart is 16

#40’s probably fine for a boy—especially with a fairy husband#my interpretation of Gwen being 12 is trickier but maybe Cassima is younger

#or MAYBE it was a whole thing and everyone was very worried about her pregnancy

#imagine jollo and all the citizens trying to keep her safe and healthy and it being kinda scary)

#king's quest #king graham #kings quest #ch1 #ch2 #ch4 #ch3 #ch5 #i'm hesitant to post this too--maybe it should stay nebulous and shouldn't be pinned down into ages and dates and years #but they're purely headcanons you can do what you want royal guard number one is perpetually 50 after all #is this the sort of thing that would have started a fight in old fandom i know people were bickering over his age #i mean clearly--they sent an ask to a dev to clear up the drama #i bet this would have started a fight

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gerbiloftriumph · 3 months ago

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Lost and Found (ao3):

Grandpa’s story of the goblin caves started out familiarly enough, but as he spoke, the story started to twist and change. New friends, new conversations, and new ways to use old items transformed the tale, and the young king discovered new ways to be brave in the dark tunnels beneath Daventry.

(9/?)

The alarms hadn’t gone off. Graham’s tampering with the mushroom alarm system had made sure of that. But the tattered villagers and battered knights and rumpled king were not in the clear, not yet. No one had noticed their escape, but with eight prisoners clustered nervously together, the chances of getting out without being spotted at all were maybe a bit too slim.

“Wait,” he said, gesturing for the group to pause. “I’ll go ahead.” At the very least, he was permitted to be out, sort of. If he wasn’t doing anything too obvious. He’d double check their route.

They were not going to be recaptured and put into much worse danger because of his actions here. He couldn’t let that happen.

But. But there were so many goblins in the hall. Aside from the one at the top of the staircase glued to the lever, there were a bunch of others. Just hanging out, talking in their gravelly tones.

Graham leaned back against the corridor wall, studying the meandering goblins. This wasn’t going to be easy, not with all of his friends at his heels. He wondered vaguely if he could get the Daventrians down into the tunnels he’d found earlier, with the marionette horrors and the frogs…but it was such a tight squeeze in so many places down there, and so dark, even with Newton and the mushrooms...

“Whisper doesn’t do scary,” Whisper said, lambasting that idea soundly.

Graham looked through his pockets. He looked forlornly at his bow with its lone arrow, and he muttered to himself, “This weapon isn’t sufficient enough to take on the whole horde. There are just too many of them.”

The rest of his pockets was just more junk, though. He still had the shovel (hit someone?), the harp (distract someone?), Whisper’s portraits (flirt with someone?). Well. Hmm.

“So,” Acorn said. “What’s the plan?”

“Um. Something kinda dumb.”

They glanced uncomfortably at each other, not liking how this was starting out. “Well, it’s your call, string bean. Tell us.”

Graham took the portraits of Whisper he’d been carrying around for days, and then he jammed them onto the end of the little broom he’d also been carrying around for days (“Pfft, when’s the last time you did any of your chores,” Gwendolyn snorted. “I can’t believe you still have that”). In the dark, if you looked at it right, with the inkwork and gentle salamander light bouncing off it, from a distance, maybe it would look like the real deal. Maybe.

“Oooh, Whisper forgot to sign that one. Does anyone have a pen?”

“I need this posted up at the bottom of the staircase, and then I’m gonna yell for the goblins to go see what that is, and it should get them going down to look. And then I think I can get you guys to move up, quietly, while they’re distracted. I mean, it might be kinda quickly timed, as far as events go. Do you think we can do that?”

The group contemplated this. It looked like no one was particularly happy about the idea. And then it got a little worse.

“Ooooh, Acorn?” Chester leaned forward.

“Yes?”

“Can I have a piggyback ride for this?”

“Absolutely not! Do I look like a Kyle to you?”

“But I might not be fast enough otherwise,” he wheedled and whined.

“Oh, yes you will, if you wanna see that shop of yours again.”

“Is that a threat?”

“All I’m sayin’ is, if the current owner doesn’t pay the rent…”

“Ohhh, I think I see what’s going on here. This is a scheme of the lowest, most devious nature!” Chester squared up to the knight, which was fairly pointless as he couldn’t see over Acorn’s belly when standing that close. He jabbed a finger sharply in Acorn’s gut. It bounced off his armor. “You…schemer!”

“Acorn, be nice,” Graham said wearily, adjusting his Whisper decoy.

“It doesn’t have to be goblins that do it,” Acorn said breezily. “I hear there are fantastic retirement communities in Tanalore. I have a brochure at home.”

“Retirement? Oh-hoh, you seem very keen on me leaving my shop. Between the goblins and this retirement thing, I think you want my shop deed, don’t you!”

“I just wanna be crafty. Like you,” Acorn admitted, and for just a split second, Graham could hear the honesty in his voice. For a split second. And then Chester had to ruin it.

“I’ve seen your crafts, and there’s no witch or wizard in them!” Chester said heatedly. “The lowest tier of crafting…folk!”

“Oh, you take that back! I’m an artist!”

“You, sir, are a hobbyist! You don’t even have a store.”

“Well, I would if you’d just retire already.”

“It comes back to that!” Chester hissed. He was reaching into a pocket, possibly to pull out some forgotten bird bomb or other trick in his sleeve.

“Stop!” Graham said, shoving the two of them apart—shoving Chester back, anyway. Acorn moved not an inch. “We can deal with this later, okay? Please!” The two stood glaring at each other, arms crossed, and Graham just knew the argument was going to flare up again shortly.

(“I see what you meant earlier about people not listening to you much even as a king,” Gwendolyn said, watching the mirror.

“Alas, tempers were a little too high, even as far underground as we all were,” Grandpa agreed. “Maybe some good clean escapades would help soothe the stress.”)

“Bramble Fey, reporting for duty,” Bramble said, stepping up to Graham with a little salute, knocking the tension out of the air as firmly as kneading dough. She glanced at Acorn with a soft smile, then: “Wente and I talked, and I think we can do it. Even with our little bun in the oven. We can do it. Whatever you think is right.”

Amaya shook her head, still looking reluctant, but with the Feys making the first step forward... “Well. My gut is still empty, so we’ll go with yours. If this is the best way to get going, then we’ll do it.”

“Fine. Chester can do it, too,” Chester agreed, but he was still grumbling a bit.

“No, you have to say it dramatically!” Whisper said, clapping Chester on the back. “Like this!” He flung his hand in the air and posed, with a loud, “Whisper can do it!”

“Whisper! Whispering voice!” Graham said desperately. No goblins came to check on them, at least. Lucky break. But then, everything he was doing seemed to be relying on luck today. “Don’t be careless, Whisper.”

“Whisper is…whispering.”

“Can you just help me set this up?” Graham asked. “We’ll have to be quick.”

“Oooh! Congrats on finally joining the sacred practice of leg day!” Whisper said. ��Let’s go! Speed is the name of our game!”

(“Actually, we should name our game after some sort of quest, instead,” Gwendolyn said. “Sounds more epic that way.”

“Agreed.”)

With the two of them checking and testing angles, it took hardly a minute to get the decoy set up. It worked okay, in the dim light, though it wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny. He balanced it delicately beside the crack that led into the wall, and Whisper helped him make a bunch of different steps in the dirt he’d disturbed with his shovel earlier, making it look like lots of people had gone into the crack instead of just Graham earlier. Maybe it would get the goblins to go in there, giving him a little more time.

“Well. That’s as good as we can do it,” Graham said. “I think. Stars, I hope.”

“Whisper has nothing to add to the conversation.”

“…right, thanks. Come on, then.”

The group huddled together. Graham surveyed his team of friends. This was going to work. It had to. He just had to get them to the door. He felt the outline of the key in his pocket, one last time, just to be sure. Okay. Okay. Okay. Ohhhkaaaaayyyy.

(Gwendolyn and Grandpa watched the mirror king. The little reflection was frozen with uncertainty. Still standing there. Doing nothing. Not at all sure if this idea was actually a good one. Finally, Grandpa said, with a pushing motion as though to get his younger self moving: “I had stalled long enough. I had an idea, and I went and did it.” That got the little mirror king to act.)

“One…two…three!” Graham whirled, hands cupped around his mouth to yell, “Goblins! Goblins, look! Look down there! I think there’s someone down there! Hey! Is that the escaped knight? Hey!”

This wasn’t supposed to work. It was such a dumb idea, so risky and ridiculous—and yet, it absolutely did work. Goblins raced past Graham and the villagers hidden in the shadows behind him, intent on the strange Whisper decoy and the space beyond, and Graham wasted no time. In a hoarse, frantic whisper, he waved them forward. “All right. Go!” He heard paper scrunching as a goblin pounced on the decoy. “Amaya, over here! Forward! Go, go, go! Whisper! You know what to do!”

“What should Whisper do? …it? Oh! It! Running! Whisper can do it!”

But as Graham moved, his pockets—his dear, strained pockets, that had been carrying people around for days—split, as he’d feared they’d might, after all the weight they’d been working under. The jostling of his running was just the last straw. Happily, he had little enough in the pocket that split and lost its contents. Unhappily, it was the one important item he’d moved to its own special spot so he could grab it quickly and easily.

The key to the prison dropped, clattering on the ground, bouncing, teetering over the edge of the spiral staircase, seconds away from falling and landing on a goblin’s head as the crowd below them inspected the Whisper decoy with curious little grunts of uncertainty.

“Grab that key!” Graham yelped, starting to spin back, to get it. But that one yelp was just a little too loud. It echoed. Goblins turned to look, to see, and while he wasn’t exactly eye to eye, it was definitely an eye to helmet sort of moment.

“Pirouette!” Whisper yelled, delighted that he didn’t have to try and be quiet anymore. He whirled back, grabbed the key with a triumphant, “Got it!” and kept charging up the staircase.

Everyone else had nearly gotten to the doors, but Bramble was lagging a bit. Acorn scooped her up and kept going.

Graham slid after his group, boots barely gripping the dusty floor as he went skidding around the corner, grabbing a stalactite to spin himself around faster as the goblins came racing up behind them (the one still glued to the lever was yelling excitedly and pointing out which direction the Daventrians had gone). “Whisper! Over here!” he cried, thumping hard against the door, and the knight threw the key to his king, and Graham slammed it home in the lock. “On the count of three, pull the switches!” he yelped. “Ready? OnetwothreeNOW!”

The prison doors yawned open with a groan. “Run for it!” Graham waved his arms desperately at his friends, shoving them, as the first goblin rounded the corner, spear raised. “Acorn!” It was basically a squeak, but the big knight understood.

“On it!” He grabbed the doors and started yanking them shut. Wood creaked as he fought the levers, splintering under his grip, but he kept pulling, yelling “Get out—!” as he did so. Graham snatched the key out of the lock, shoved it in a (functioning) pocket, and scampered beneath Acorn’s arms just as the doors slammed shut behind him.

Goblins hit the closed doors in a little cascading wave, and the doors shook on their hinges, but they did not open again. “Oooh! Whooo! The bull is back, baby!” Acorn crowed, pumping the air. “Boom! That was awesome! Ahahaha!” He clapped his hands together, wood chips dancing off his arms.

The villagers and king lay in a sprawled little heap beyond the doors, except for Bramble, who sat primly on top of her husband, where Acorn had gently put her down. Her ankles were delicately crossed and her hands rested in her lap. “Oooh, that was fun,” she said. “But let’s not do it again.”

“Agreed,” Graham groaned from somewhere under Muriel’s shawl.

The villagers extricated themselves, shook the dust off, looked at each other, looked at the cave walls still surrounding them. “Well,” Muriel said, straightening her necklaces. “It’s not the freedom I was hoping for exactly, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

Chester looked slyly up at Acorn, and pointed at his foot. "Oh my. It seems I've worn a hole in my sock with all that running. If only someone had carried me. But, you know who I'm not gonna take it to for repairs?"

Acorn turned slowly, the joy in his shoulders drooping. "Huh?"

"That big guy who doesn't have a shop!"

"Wait a minute!"

Chester mused, tapping his toe, "I guess I'll just have to devise a crafty potion to fix it myself. Like a proper wizard ought. Hopefully one with lizard tongue. Mmm...."

"I've had enough of you! A shop doesn't make the artist! The art makes the artist!"

Graham checked the others. Wente was limping, but trying not to show it, and Amaya had caught her arm on a rock and was bleeding, a bit, but it looked like everyone else was okay. Rattled, definitely. But mostly in one piece. Graham exhaled. That had been…stupidly lucky. Stars. If there was a god keeping track of his luck on an abacus somewhere above them, Graham thought he could hear each bead clacking over into the spent luck category.

Or, rather, that was the sound of goblins.

The goblins behind the prison door were scrambling and clawing at the wood. It kept thumping, rocking on its hinges. Graham figured they probably had more than one key, and the Daventrians had a limited amount of time to get out of here before they got that door open. “We should probably go,” he said. That, at least, was a statement that didn’t require any choices on his part.

“Which way…?”

Graham heard the uncertainty, and the ugly little empty pit in his stomach started gnawing at him again, and he just knew he had to make another choice that would hopefully work, wouldn’t hurt…. He turned away from the trembling door, and he looked, and he saw…

(“Two roads split off from the path. They both looked the same, and I had no idea which to pick.”)

And here he’d been sort of hoping he wouldn’t have to make any more decisions today. This one shouldn’t be hard. Right? But. But it was. Too hard. He stared down each one, trying desperately to remember which one he’d been led down when he’d first come this way. But he’d been tied and tired and confused and upset and there had been so many goblins and it had been dark and…

Minutes were moving faster than they were, and there wasn’t time.

Amaya sidled up to him, her words accompanied by the percussive beat as the goblins charged at the door behind them. “Hey, let’s speed this up, shall we?” She spoke low and soft, but with great urgency, and the rest of the villagers stepped closer anyway so it wasn’t quite as secret as she’d meant it to be. “Last idea went. Uh. Fine. We’re all here, anyway. Go on.”

“Uh.”

“Come on. Make a choice.”

“Um.”

“Despair behind us and two solutions in front of us. Pick one.”

“I…”

“Remember how I said I’d make a great advisor? Like, right now, I advise you to pick one.”

“Ah.”

“I’m all for using your noggin, but indecision is worse than a dumb decision. Come on, Graham,” Acorn said, picking up his startled king and pushing him to the left. “This one’s fine.”

“Whisper agrees! Left is right and right is wrong.”

“That’s ridiculous. Shouldn’t right be right?”

“That’s what they want you to think!”

“But I…wait…no….” Graham tried to turn back—he was supposed to make this choice, he was the king—but Acorn had him in his grip, marching him hastily down the road. Graham’s metal tipped boots clattered against stones as he tried to get his feet back under himself. His arms were pinned to his sides as he was pushed along, and that didn’t feel right, that feeling made his stomach twist unpleasantly, but he couldn’t…

They hurried down the tunnel, too nervous and out of breath from the escape to talk much, but after a few minutes, another fork in the road. Another split.

“Oh, no, we’re not doing this again,” Amaya groaned, as everyone looked to Graham. “Someone else should—”

“No, no. I. Hang on a sec. Let me think this one over,” Graham said, stepping away from Acorn so he couldn’t be grabbed again. He pushed the heavy crown back on his head. If he chose wrong…and these tunnels looked identical too. Like some scribe had simply copied them twice, next to each other. He could have sworn they hadn’t come down such twisting paths the first time he’d been pushed this way.

“Whisper could have taken both paths by now!”

“You’re thinking too hard. Let love guide you,” Bramble said, squeezing Graham’s hand.

“Oh, sweetycakes, you’re just so right,” Wente said, nuzzling her shoulder. “That’s the way, of course.”

“Love isn’t a cardinal direction,” Amaya said flatly.

“It should be,” Wente said, almost offended.

“The scenic route looks nice,” Acorn said.

“They look identical.”

“They both look like they head away from the goblins. That’s the way to go, let me tell ya.”

“Go with your heart.”

“Hurry up, Graham. Patience is not a virtue that blessed Whisper.”

“The answer is right in front of you!”

“Think it through, but quickly, my boy, please! My knees sure will appreciate it!”

“Charge again!”

“Left or right? Right or left?”

“If you can’t think quickly, guess assuredly!”

“This ain’t art, just pick one!”

“Ah, zards!” Graham wailed.

The room stopped chattering. “That’s not very kingly language,” Muriel said.

“But I do like a king of the people,” Chester grinned.

He could feel his eyes growing prickly with frustration, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, near enough to bleed. This was too much. This was like being back in his throne room, that stupid night of chaos, of accidental opposite day, of trumpets and acorns flying everywhere and his choices were mocked and he didn't have a minute to think, not a minute to breathe. And that horrible last idea with the decoy had barely worked--yeah, they were out, they had escaped, but that was by some grace of Daventrian gods, not because his plan had been any good, because stars, it had not been good, it had relied on luck, on slim chance, and even then it had barely worked. They'd nearly been captured again. He'd been captured after that throne room, the first time. The first nightmare.

He had to make a choice here. Others were offering to make a choice for him, were forcing him into paths that he wasn't sure he wanted—and they meant well, stars hang it, they did, they did, but he couldn't let them. Couldn't accept their help. Because who would he be then? What kind of stupid, weak king? But what kind of stupid, weak king was he already? Anyway? He wasn't good at this. The last plan had been a mess. The throne room had been a mess. They were making choices without him, they didn't need him, shouldn't keep him around, this was dancing on an edge of a knife of his own making, his own fault, his own failures.

Not again, not again, not again. "I can't—I can't..." He stumbled backward, away, away, away. His hands were reaching for that crown. I need some air. I can't. I can't. He was going to drop it in the dirt. He was going to give up, give in, leave. Flee. Again, again. It would be best for everyone, really, surely. Acorn had picked the last one, he could pick this one, he could lead. Or Whisper could do it. But Graham. Graham was so tired.

So tired.

And they were staring at him.

His split pocket kept splitting. There’d been more in there than just the key, after all. Two coins bounced out. The two he hadn’t spent at the merchant’s (whom he was now realizing he’d forgotten in the prison, oops). One coin with his face, that Wente had given him. One coin with the old queen’s, that he had found in the spider web, lost in the shadows of a forgotten underground maze.

In the stunned silence of the room, the clatter of gold on stone was too loud, and it snapped Graham out of his confusion. From his need to run. Muriel bent down and picked up the old coin. She rubbed it between her fingers. “Ohh,” she said, quietly. “Ohh, where did you find this old thing?”

“Somewhere,” Graham said, distantly, still taut with energy and drive and with nowhere to spend it.

“I haven’t seen her in an age. Edward’s grandmother. Oh, it’s been an age, an age. And there’s you, on this one.” She bent and picked up the new coin, too shiny with lack of use, too clean. Untested. “But the same crest on both, you know, see?”

There was a pause, as everyone stared at her now. Then, she continued: “King bo—Graham. Listen. Your ideas have worked so far, haven’t they? We’re out here now, aren’t we? All in one piece, too. And, more to that, right now, it doesn’t matter which road we take. They all go away from those cells. And that’s right and good. And we’ll talk about queens, and kings, when we’re off the path, away from this. There’s no wrong choice. Not now, and not later. Not for you. Not for her. Not for us. Choose a path, we’ll see it through, and we’ll make it work. All right?”

He nodded, wary and stiff, but…he nodded. The crown bobbled on his forehead.

“Then choose a road, sire.”

“Left is right, and right is wrong,” Graham said, after a deep breath. “We’ll go left.”

“But Whisper’s right, so, right?”

“Chester, I love you more than the sunset itself, but, shut up.”

“Sorry.”

#what's a little decision paralysis among friends #and what do we say about that last piece of straw settling gently on that camel #also three months between updates i'm never uploading a fic piecemeal again i had to go back and add in edits for prior chapters to smooth #finish first i swear--see you in three more months for the Character Development Chapter #it's long--but still not as long as the last chapter in silence between snowflakes which just Could Not Be Trimmed #fic'ing #i swear this isn't anti-chester propaganda i'm just copying his missing lines back in and he just won't leave acorn alone

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