A youngster sneaks up behind "Dex" and pokes his side and says "tag, you're it!" and runs off giggling. He and his friends were helping a renovation project the children's hospital had badly needed. -- The New Guy
When is a king not a king? When he's not doing the king's job. Dex, like his father before him, had his sleeves rolled up to help out with something that needed to be done. It was better than sitting in his office and doing paperwork while others were outdoors in the fresh air. Well. Relatively fresh air.
Like his father before him, Dex would much rather be doing than signing.
The real builders had given him the prentice work of applying plaster to the finished brickwork. All without any of the prentice pranks like fetching a left-handed screwdriver or tartan paint. Putting the plaster up properly was relatively simple work and he was a quick learner. He could focus on the meditative rhythm of pressing paste onto the surface and sweeping it smooth.
There was an ongoing argument between supervisors about the colour of the paint for the interior. Something about colour theory and the moods versus the message that could be sent to the scared kids who were the patients[1]. Dex didn't pay it much mind.
He stepped back, out of plaster, to admire the smoothness of the wall.
"Tag! You're it."
That kid had to be a wizard at stealth to sneak up on a Master of the Art of Shadows. They were already running up the safe area of the hospital under construction, laughing like a drain.
Well. The plaster could wait and he was out. The job could wait. Which was why they had given it to him in the first place. He took a handful of seconds to put the trowel and pail where the workers could find it and then went racing off after the laughing child.
Who was treating the maze of halls and unfinished wards like the world's best place to play hide and seek. He was right, of course. The interlocking rooms and half-done hallways were a maze. One that had a small collection of local children, including his own. All laughing and dashing around like the little maniacs they truly were.
The children here only knew Elf as Elf, not Prince Kormwind Arachis Felbourne Whitekeep the Eleventh. Therefore they only knew Dex as "Elf's dad."
It was a welcome respite from being the king. He missed being assumed to be a commoner. He missed Adventuring, too, but he had responsibilities now. Starting with children to look after. The kingdom to mind was currently minding its own business, and he was grateful.
Dex could have used the Art of Shadows to win, but that wasn't the point of the game. They thought he was an otherwise ordinary Hellkin, so he had to act like one. Dex did his best to do that. Which was tricky, because Dex had lifelong habits from those Martial Arts.
He tried to stomp or clomp, but kept walking like a shadow. Soundless. He compensated by muttering things like, "Where are you little sneaks?" or, "Here I come, ready or not."
Tracking the giggling helped, and he also had to try to be fooled by the echoes. Which was also debatably successful in his opinion. At least the kids were having fun, dashing around and laughing while shrieking, "Elf's dad's it!" at each other.
He caught Felicity, his daughter, and covered her face in kisses while she shrieked about it. He set her down with a, "Fel's it, no tag-backs!"
Two years younger than the six-year-old Prince, Felicity ran shrieking for her next-nearest target.
Dex went back to his plastering while there was still light in the day.
[Photo by jesus arango on Unsplash]
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[1] A fellow Tumblrina says 'hello'. If you know, you know.
