49 | Discombobulated

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DISCOMBOBULATED

/ˌdiskəmˈbäbyəˌlādəd/
adjective
HUMOROUS
adjective: discombobulated
confused and disconcerted.
"he is looking a little pained and discombobulated"

.·。.·゜·༺♥༻ ·゜·。.

CAL VELIUS LEROY

"But why?" Cal Junior asked as he followed his father out of the dining room after breakfast.

Just this morning, he had learned that Cal Senior would be leaving home again to Archambault to prepare a shelter for the people of Seol-il who had been affected by the disaster. That angered Junior. Not only he was disheartened that his father was going away again so soon, but the reason why he was going didn't make sense to him. So Seol-il got hit by a landslide, how was that Angletonia's problem now?

"Why should we care about what those people think about us? They're not our people."

"Their own rulers pay no heed for them, Junior."

"So...? They aren't Angletonians. They're not our people," Junior insisted, a persistent frown remaining on his lips.

Originally, Senior had offered for him to come along due to his reaction the first time he went on duty, but he also told Junior that he intended to introduce him to these 'new people'. He thought that Junior being present by the time of the great-giving would leave a good impression on the people's minds, as the heir. Setting aside the fact that his son was never particularly excited about crowds, to begin with, Junior also failed to understand why the small neighbouring country was suddenly an object of importance.

To build an empire, they must make allies; Junior was aware of that. Powerful allies though, not a feeble, unstable country like Seol-il. Weren't there plenty of other considerable, prosperous countries to build an alliance with?

Senior bent down to meet his eyes, a faint smile forming on his lips. "You like Dr. Jaeyr."

Junior shrugged. "She is an Angletonian."

"What about Adejola?"

"He is a friend of ours and a valuable ally. I don't recall hearing of N'thanda eating out of our hands," he argued.

"We share some of our military resources with Praja."

"We are married to Praja," Junior folded his arms tightly in front of his chest, his eyebrow raised as his father stood back, bemused by his response. Did he really think that he wasn't aware of the differences between these countries? "You can't be serious!"

"I am very serious, Junior," Senior repeated again. "...Fine. If you don't wish to go, you can stay at home with your mother. I'll make sure to telephone you every single day and night, and I will not go to bed before I hear your voice. I'll be back in a week, as promised. Can you live with that?"

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, Junior anxiously hung his head low. He knew his father was referring to the incident from last time and he swore that he'd never put Gigi in danger again. "If it is so very important to you..."

"One day, you'll finally understand why I'm doing this," Senior palmed his cheek, leaning down to kiss his head. "Just because you can't see the value, doesn't mean it's worthless. No good cause goes to waste."

"Right." He raised his chin up to meet his father's eyes. "But an empire isn't a charity."

***

Cal Junior paced restlessly around his room as he was getting ready for bed that night. His father was out there being a philanthropist. Not that he would put altruism past his Papa; he had often heard that he inherited that trait from his Grandmére, who was also known for being kind and generous. It wasn't that he thought humanitarian work was bad, the way his father was doing it just felt out of place.

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