Between the building of a whole-ass castle and attending to the king, Bdubs took an evening to wander over to Scar’s amusement park. Scar was taking the evening off too, having just finished a huge restaurant. The two just kind of chatted, messing with color pallets and generally shooting the shit.
The conversation eventually meandered to the current events of hermitcraft, and the king.
“You know who should have been king?” Scar said, raising an eyebrow at Bdubs.
“Who’s that?” Bdubs shot a skeleton off in the distance, missing it wildly.
Scar blew into a horn, and Bdubs’ own voice shouted at him to speak when spoken too. Bdubs chuckled. It was one of those silly party favor things that Tango had started handing out to hermits a few weeks ago. But the point Scar was making was very clear.
“Mmm.” Bdubs crossed his arms and looked out at the sunset and the walls of random blocks lying about Scar’s storage area.
“I’m just saying!” Scar raised his hands as if to plead innocence. “We’re all thinking it. No need to be coy with me, Bdubs.”
Of course the idea had crossed his mind. He’d come up with the whole idea of having a king in the first place. But to be the crown itself? No, he was meant to stand with a big smile at the right hand of the king- no, mayor- no, king. It wasn’t… power he needed.
“You were a good mayor.” Bdubs countered, and he meant it too. Scar was personable, friendly to the point of seductive, a handsome figurehead. All too eager to lean on his assumed lessers for ideas. Bdubs had liked being at his side, ruling- helping him rule.
And now it was Ren, and Ren was loud and dramatic and spoke big. His words meant nothing without a little enforcement, and Bdubs was all too willing to stand at his side, smiling and nodding and whispering in his ear.
“Perhaps I was. But it takes a lot to be a king.” Scar nudged Bdubs comfortably.
“No, perhaps not.” Scar considered, rubbing a hand across his stubbly chin; Bdubs aimlessly wondered how long it had been since the man had slept properly. “But you are the kingmaker, my little puppet master.” And then he yawned, bade Bdubs a good night, and rode off to bed.
Bdubs didn’t quite mind the title.
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