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He's been in extended delves less exhausting than that court. Paulte's crimes were numerous and significant, and as a matter of procedure, each charge was read in full. More than a few observers left in the middle of the reading, some to settle their stomachs, and some to file their own grievances or identify themselves as aggrieved parties in one or more of the stated crimes.

He didn't envy the defense, that's for certain. The only option open for the stressed elf representing the former Earl was to try to establish the accounting on Paulte's skin as some sort of forgery. The record of an Oathbreaker is written by Order himself, so it'd be foolish to try to argue he made a mistake. Claiming a forgery is a long shot, but a dying adventurer will lick a potion bottle clean.

Which is why he was there to give his testimony. He witnessed the declaration of Oathbreaker, heard the screams of Paulte with his own ears, and saw the words embed themselves on him. While he might not be the most unbiased witness, his testimony along with the declaration from an Order priest that the Oathbreaker's Tally was genuine, the former Earl doesn't have much hope left.

Not that he looked it. He wasn't shouting his innocence, but he wasn't slumped in defeat, either. Maybe he somehow hopes his connections will bail him out? Or maybe he hopes to keep some small shred of dignity. Either way, sentencing is all that truly remains.

Which is why he's being escorted to the King's chambers, to give his personal opinion, and probably explain the letter he sent not long after Paulte's fall from grace. The King's butler allows him in while the guards remain outside, and he soon sees his highness relaxing in his favorite chair, enjoying some tea.

Olander gives a bow. "Your majesty."

King Horlon makes a sour face and waves him off. "None of that, Olander. Not in private. We've known each other for far too long for me to have to put up with that sort of thing from you."

Olander grins and takes his own seat, accepting his own tea from the troll butler with a nod of thanks as the king continues. "Now then, I've read your letter, and I heard the charges. I have my own inclination for how to punish him, but I want to hear the reasoning behind your letter before I make anything official."

Olander nods around his tea. "I don't think Rezlar is ready to take over the full Earldom, and I don't know if he'd even be interested if he was. Fourdock is growing rapidly, and I think it'll need someone like him to help guide it to be all that it can."

"And you don't think his worship of a dungeon will impact his decisions?"

Olander smirks. "No more than your own worship of Order impacts yours."

The king rolls his eyes, but Olander can see the hint of a smile at the banter. "What do you think of that dungeon, then? I read your report, of course, but the threat assessment is different for a dungeon than a deity."

Olander shrugs. "I think if he went murderous, we'd be in a lot of trouble. But I also can't imagine that happening. And as a deity, his tenants are no trouble at all. I even hear he gets along well with Order, so I doubt he's going to be making trouble. At least not deliberately."

The king sighs. "I haven't been blessed to get a vision from Lord Order, but the priests I've talked with say they have a good relationship. One of his priests is even working on establishing a temple here, did you know? Both Lord Order and the Shield are subtly helping as they can."

"Is he now?" asks Olander, surprised and intrigued. "I might swing by just to say hello. The ones in Fourdock are good people, and though I'm not going to go and follow him, I would like to keep a friendly relationship with him, too."

The sovereign of the kingdom nods before deflating slightly. "Thedem aside, I agree with your assessment of mayor if'Gofnar. An Earl needs to have experience at the smaller scale before trying to expand into managing more territory. Paulte will be executed, but not in his coat of arms. For now, a temporary steward will be assigned, but I'm going to subtly let the other nobles know that I have little intention of interfering in their political games. For the most part, they can pick over the corpse of the if'Gofnar Earldom, but Fourdock and its territory are to be left out of it. And, whatever they get up to, they will not hinder the trade to and from Fourdock."

Olander sips his tea, thinking through the ramifications of that. "So the smaller houses will probably start bickering and claiming territory while the larger ones quietly back their favorites. In the end, they'll either be rolled into the territories of the larger houses, or one of the smaller will rise to prominence and claim the title of Earl themself. You'll have to keep an eye on things, though. The trade through Fourdock is only going to get more and more lucrative, enough that some houses will risk being less subtle than they should."

The king nods. "Indeed. It will be a good test for Rezlar, to see if he can defend his home from the vultures."

"And if he can't? I have faith in him, but some of the houses can get... unpleasant."

The king smiles. "Then I think they'll run afoul of the lad's allies. The dungeon clearly likes him, and he has his butler, too. I think the nobles that start looking closely will come to the same understanding I have: if they make the dungeon mad, it may capture the town just to spite them. It's already almost there. If the political tides start shifting and put the town in danger of drowning, he may just claim the area and be done with it."

Olander frowns as the king drinks his tea. "Wouldn't that make things difficult for you?"

Horlon shakes his head. "No, I'll be able to blame the nobles for it, and I think still negotiate a lucrative business deal with the dungeon should that happen. The only question is who to set as the temporary Earl..." he lets his words hang in the air, his eyes boring into Olander.

For his part, he tries to remain calm. "I hope you're not considering me. I don't have the head for ruling."

Horlon chuckles and nods. "You don't. But it'd be a good opportunity to learn." Olander sweats for a few more seconds before the king finally relents. "But you'd have to retire for that, and I'm not going to force that on you, even if I think you'd do a better job than you expect."

Olander groans and slumps in his chair. "I'd rather learn butlering. Dust bunnies don't conspire with each other over every stupid thing. Or maybe I'll never retire."

The king laughs at his friend. "I don't think they'd let you keep your glaive once you put on the suit."

"Which is why I'll just have to never retire," retorts Olander, and the two start to settle into friendly bickering and reminiscing, each remembering simpler times when a tough delve was their biggest worry, and the crown was still so far away from landing on Horlon's head.