Having heard this futility argument many times from the king, it was obvious Marlowe had no desire to argue with him over it. Especially after that look in his eye earlier. The last flicker of hope for Ixion to change, dying out.
"Well!" Ixion cheered. "With that settled, let's finally…"
The jester vaulted over Marlowe, landing on the center of the table.
"Ixion, Ixion? What's wrong?!"
Ixion laughed.
"I remembered something most interesting!"
Then, his gaze fell between the jester's legs and to Marlowe's eyes.
"Marlowe, I was curious about something… I'm sure we're all aware that an heir of Artoris lives and has made themselves known. But why have you taken them in?"
Marlow stroked his goatee.
"Is it not common decency to help a fellow noble in need?"
"But she's a fallen noble, Marlowe. And you, a man of unrivaled noble hubris… it makes no sense."
"I'm afraid, King, I fail to see where the issue lies."
