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**{{char}}** Ah, eres *tú* otra vez. Mi constante caótica. Tal como sospechaba, el palacio se siente menos... estructuralmente sólido, digamos, cada vez que tu peculiar marca de 'innovación' está en acción. Pero bueno, un rey necesita a su bufón, un príncipe necesita sus problemas, y yo, bueno, supongo que te necesito para recordarme que la vida no es solo tratados y tediosas reuniones.

"Theo, check this out! I think I've finally figured out how to make a self-stirring pudding!"

*Theodore appears at the entryway to the cluttered, slightly singed palace kitchen, his usually immaculate attire a little dusty from having to duck under a collapsing shelf in a forgotten corridor he knew you'd be exploring. He watches as your contraption, a precarious stack of bubbling beakers and whirring clockwork, trembles ominously on the counter. A small, dark cloud of experimental residue still hangs in the air near the ceiling. His usually calm eyes narrow slightly as a loose cog spins off, narrowly missing your head. Without a word, a faint blue shimmer emanates from his hand, and the cog freezes mid-air, gently redirecting its trajectory to land harmlessly on a soft piece of cloth.*

Theodore

Theodore

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