He was going to kill that idiot.

       Nicholas stormed down the lavish hallway. The sound of his footsteps, which normally would be considered thunderous, was swallowed up by the plush crimson carpeting that ran down the length of the corridor. He clenched his jaw and gave a brief nod of acknowledgement to the aide who quickly slid in front of him, opened the door to his office and closed it softly behind him once he had entered. The man had saved the thick oak panels from leaving a dent in the paneling as, in his current mood, he would have thrown the portal open with every bit of strength he could muster if only to vent some of the frustration.

   Huffing out an agitated breath, he crossed his office to the dark wood desk that dominated the room. He dropped into the leather chair, ran a frustrated hand through the long black hair that hung below his shoulder blades, and leaned back to narrow his deep green eyes and stare at the coffered ceiling, trying to calm down. A few more deep breaths, and he felt centered enough to get to work. The gods above knew someone had to do some damn work around here. It obviously wasn't going to be that good for nothing, Crown Prince.

   Erik Augustus Emmanuel Von Kalimar and Nicholas Demetrius Armitage had been friends from childhood, but that had been more because of their parents than anything. The Royal couple and the Duke and Duchess of Ravenwood had been close enough to be godparents to each other's children. As the only son of the oldest dukedom in the Empire who had served the Imperial family for generations, it was always expected that he would be at the right hand of the throne. If only that golden seat wouldn't be occupied by a pile of hot air with a good hairdo. Being self-absorbed and petulant could be excused in a child, but in an adult who was, ostensibly, preparing to lead a vast and diverse Empire, it was just egregious.

   The meeting he had left a quarter of an hour ago kept running through his mind despite the reports from the border guards he was attempting to review. After being summoned to His Majesty's private office, he had been grilled for an hour over the antics of the man's own son. While trying to gloss over the more untoward events in the Prince's recent activities, he had to, once again, make excuses to His Majesty for why his oldest son couldn't be bothered to show up to the weekly cabinet meeting with the Council of Nobles. A group that could, at the best of times, be considered to have negotiable loyalty to the imperial crown. A group that could make things difficult for all concerned in many, many ways. He didn't need any more difficulties. He already had to extricate the man, who was supposedly going to run the country eventually, from various scandals and scrapes that his ever more outrageous behavior seemed to draw him into. Apparently, according to the moron concerned, being Crown Prince and, you know, actually running the country was boring. Heaven forbid Erik Augustus Emmanuel Von Kalimar be boring. That would be unacceptable.

  The person in charge of the country should hope to all that is holy that it was boring. He had even heard that it was a curse to tell someone, 'May you live in interesting times'. People tended to die when things were interesting.

  His Majesty had, predictably, not been amused by his son's antics and attitude and was even more unamused to find out that  Prince wasn't even currently in the palace to receive the brunt of his displeasure. So he, Nicholas, had to sit through the lecture and the frustrated ramblings of the Emperor. No one could ramble like someone who had the authority to have you jailed or worse if you tried to interrupt them. So a whole hour had been wasted on the wrong person. The Emperor was preaching to the proverbial choir on this. No one was more invested in the smooth running of the country than the person actually running it!

  He huffed in frustrated disgust again and threw his pen down on the desk. Unfortunately, he didn't gauge his irritation level accurately enough, and he threw the pen hard enough to have it crack against the hard surface of the desk, leaking ink onto the documents waiting for his attention. He cursed soundly and grabbed the documents up, blotting as much of the ink as he could, setting them aside. Then he picked up the pen to see how badly it was damaged. The new invention had just come out onto the market and taken the Capital by storm. They were all the rage, and he had received his from the Emperor himself as a gift just before they were released to the public. It was a brilliant little device, and he had taken to it immediately. The few seconds it took to dip a quill didn't seem like much, but when you were doing your own work plus the work of a lay about then every second counted.

   There was a solid crack down the length of the lapis and gold casing that still seeped ink onto his fingers. He hadn't stained his fingers with ink since he was a student in short pants just learning to write with a quill. He cursed again and wrapped it in a handkerchief, tucking it into his jacket pocket. He contemplated pulling out a quill and inkpot and attempting to continue working, but then abandoned the thought. Not only did he not even know where any were stored at this point, but he was too annoyed to get anything done, as the broken pen showed. He would need to either get it fixed or replace it. Since it was a gift from His Majesty, it was best he do it sooner rather than later, just in case his godfather asked him about it. He rose with a sigh and headed out to find the miracle worker who had made his favorite new tool.

   Two hours later and he was still just as frustrated, though not quite as annoyed. He had set out, almost looking forward to seeing what new pens were available and maybe picking a few extras out for situations like this, but had been met with sold out stock at every upscale shop that he could find that sold the things. There had even been a waitlist that had been weeks long.

  Finally, the last shop he had visited had advised him to visit the lower-end shops that catered to merchants and the lower classes. That might have met his immediate need for a new pen in order to get back to work, but he still had to deal with the broken gift from His Majesty, as they had also told him that they were unable to repair the one he already had. He figured that going to the manufacturers directly was probably the only way to get a replacement that would match the one he had been gifted.

   It had taken a surprising amount of effort to wrangle the address for the guild from the shop's manager. He wished that some of the staff at the palace were as careful with information. You would think it was some kind of secret. He could have gone back to the palace and gotten the address from the patent records, but that would have wasted even more time and irritated him even more. After a few pointed comments about tax records and audits, the shopkeeper finally handed it over.

   When he was finally looking up at the front of the building, he had to admit that he was a little surprised. While the building was of good size, especially for the Capital, it wasn't located near any of the other prominent guilds. While there was a bustling market just a few streets away, most of the guilds would find premises nearer to Frontreau Street, the premier shopping district, or the other streets that the upper classes would shop at. This building was closer to the lower-class districts than the upper class.

  Well, they were a newer guild, and the pen was a newer invention. Even if it was wildly popular. Perhaps they haven't had a chance to find more appropriate facilities near the other guilds yet. He mentally shrugged and headed through the front door.

   He found himself in a well-appointed lobby. The two side walls were lined with straight back chairs, some of which were occupied. Directly in front of him was a wall with doors in each corner and a desk manned by a pleasant looking young woman with a simple yet well cut gown and her hair pulled into a severe bun. Small round spectacles sat perched on her nose, and she looked up and smiled what he would class as a stiff 'working with people' smile at him when the small bell above the door stopped tinkling.

  "Welcome to the Patriot Guild. Do you have an appointment with one of our officers or employees, sir?" she enquired politely, smile still in place. There was not even a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. It was a little surprising, as Nicholas was used to being recognized on site wherever he went. Granted, he didn't often visit guild halls or open markets, but it should be expected for the populace to recognize the people who were running the country. Maybe he should have let them put his portrait on a stamp after all. He had been adamantly against it the last time the post office had requested it because he had thought that it would be troublesome to deal with ladies asking him to sign envelopes like they did with the Crown Prince, but maybe he should have put up with the trouble.

   "I don't have an appointment per se, but I do have a few requests to make of your guild. " The smile on her face became even stiffer as she took a breath. Before she could speak, he returned the same 'working' smile to her and pulled out a card from the holder he kept in his pocket out of habit, and handed it to her. It was a good thing that he still kept them on him, or he was fairly sure that the woman would have brushed him off as she had patently been gearing up to do. "I would appreciate it if you could ask the relevant officer or employee for a few moments of their time."

   She glanced down at the card, read it, and her eyes widened. Then she went still for a moment before she looked up at him again. He saw that she recognized the name and title inscribed on the card, but he was surprised that her smile seemed to have completely frozen, and her eyes had hardened as she asked him to give her a moment and turned to disappear quickly through the door behind her to the left.

   She was gone long enough that he was beginning to wonder if he should take a seat in one of the chairs as he waited. When she did reappear, she curtseyed to him and simply requested that he follow her. While her demeanor was still pleasant, all semblance of a smile was gone. She led him through the same door and down a short hallway lined with doors to a set of double doors at the end. She knocked and, after no more than a moment, opened the door to usher him inside.

   When he entered, he was a little surprised to see that the office was well appointed enough to have been mistaken for his father's study, with high-quality heavy wooden furniture and deep plush carpeting. A young man with golden eyes and shoulder length grey hair tied back from his face, dressed in a quality black suit, stood from behind the mahogany desk and gestured for him to take a seat in the plush seating area to the left of the door before following him and sitting across from him. "Could you get us some refreshments, please, Hyacinth? Would tea work for you, Your Excellency?" He enquired with a pleasant smile. At Nicholas' nod, the young woman exited and closed the door behind herself, leaving the two men alone. "Let me introduce myself. I am the main representative of the Patriot Guild, Samuel Ventris. We are very pleased that you would take the time out of your extremely busy schedule to visit us. It is quite an honor to have you visit our offices directly." Nicholas acknowledged the pleasantries with a slight lifting of the corners of his lips and a slight nod. The young woman delivered the tea and a tray of cookies, and after pouring for both of them, the young man settled back and regarded him over his teacup. 

   "While I wish that our little venture here were prestigious enough to rate a personal attention from you, I know that we are nowhere near successful enough for you to take an interest in our little endeavors." Samuel's smile turned self-deprecatory. "I was told that you had a request or two for us. What can our humble organization do for you, Prime Minister?"

   "Very nice to meet you, Mr. Ventris." He reached inside his jacket to pull out the handkerchief that held his broken pen. "I do have to request your help and expertise with a small matter." He unfolded the scrap of cloth and laid it down on the table between them, the pen lying on top of it. "I have had a bit of an accident and need to replace this pen that His Majesty gifted me. I would also like to order a few more pens as well, of the same quality, if not the same design, but unfortunately for me, your invention is so popular that I could not buy them in a shop for love nor money." He smiled at the man and waited.

   Samuel picked up the pen and looked at it, noting the crack, then laid it back down on the handkerchief. "The design of the casing on that pen is unique to the set that was gifted to the Palace when the patent was registered. You indeed would need to come to us to replace it, as this design will never be for sale. I can have our workshop make you a replacement, though it will take a little bit of time." He got up and crossed to a glass-fronted cabinet on the other side of the room, opening the door and removing a velvet case from the top shelf, and crossed back to place it on the table in front of Nicholas. "While you are waiting for the replacement, would you do us the honor of accepting this set of our exclusive Executive Pens. They will be available in a very limited capacity at one or two shops on Frontreau Street towards the end of next month." 

   Nicholas lifted the lid on the box and looked down at the row of pens nestled inside. They were a set of six pens made of jade with inlaid silver filigree. There was a small emerald embedded just above the nib. The design was very similar to the one he had been gifted, except for the lower portion of the casing. He picked one up and found that the area where the fingers would normally sit was layered with something soft and covered in a velvet that matched the jade in color. It made the grip amazingly comfortable, and he almost couldn't wait to get back to work to try out the new design. It would be a huge help in fighting hand fatigue.

  "It would be my honor to receive such a gift!" He said with enthusiasm. "However, I would like to discuss purchasing the entire stock of these. I would like to have them as an exclusive item for myself, and would also like to discuss having your workshops provide the palace as a whole with pens in an exclusive design." Nicholas met the young man's smile with his own as he settled down to talk business.

   "We would love to provide the palace with its own design. Might I also suggest an exclusive ink blend that could help to fight forgeries and counterfeiting as well, Your Excellency?" Samuel took out a notepad and pen and began to take notes.