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One thing that Kingsley has never quite gotten the hang of is playing nice.
From what he can tell from Beau’s notes, he’s a little more charming than his spiritual brother, a little better at getting away with things, but unlike (what Caduceus has told him of) Lucien, he doesn’t use that natural charisma to smooth over genuinely malicious intentions.
(It’s more mischievous intentions, if anything, but anyways.)
And he’s also damn good at rallying people. There’s a reason why he had been able to commandeer part of Fjord’s original crew for his own when he took off to Darktow.
But actually getting along with people he doesn’t particularly like? He can be polite and charming all he likes to get what he wants out of anyone, but he’s not good at hiding the fact that he wants something from someone—from everyone, really. Cooperation sits just in the way of his ambition, and it is a delicate dance around the thing blocking his path to greatness and power and the royalty he named himself for. He’s a great dancer, but keen observers can spot that he doesn’t actually know all the moves.
That’s all to say that, once he gets himself into the Plank King’s good graces as a subordinate and loyal pirate captain, the King still holds him at an arm’s length despite his efforts to weasel his way closer to the King’s side.
Well, that’s fine. Kingsley can still learn through observation even if he’s not close to the Plank King. It may be a little different from Fjord, who had already had a preconceived connection to Kingsley through his spiritual brother and allowed him to be as comfortable with Fjord as he liked. But Kingsley is nothing if not flexible, and that applies to learning and planning as well.
At the end of the day, though, he has all the confidence of youth and none of the experience to shape it, and the Plank King catches onto his intentions relatively quickly.
When Kingsley is summoned to the throne room, he goes in whistling, truly believing the best of the summons. Maybe Tybalt had finally gotten around to recognizing how useful and helpful Kingsley has been around the Throne Roost and recommended to the Plank King that the tiefling be given a bit more leeway around the Isle.
The Plank King doesn’t look particularly happy when Kingsley walks in, but then again, with Wyatt “I scalped the last Plank King and now wear his hair as a wig” Maranoss, that could mean anything. Kingsley has seen the man overjoyed at a public execution and a tithe of rare elven wine alike. Happiness is all relative, after all.
“Captain Tealeaf,” the Plank King greets. “I’ve summoned you here because I’ve recently been informed that you have some prior involvement with a certain banned group of adventurers known as the Mighty Nein. Care to say anything about that?”
Kingsley fights not to tense up. If there’s anything he’s truly defensive about, it’s the Nein, his little family of misfits and assholes who raised him from the dead just to get a sliver of their former friend. They basically loved him into existence, and even though there are many hang-ups between them like in any family, he loves them all back.
He manages a shrug. “Sure, I sailed with a few of their members before coming here. I’m not sure if you remember the little blue tiefling, but she spoke about how great you were and how you two talked together all the time.”
The Plank King winces. “Would you say you’re loyal to them?”
“My first loyalty is to you, your majesty.” The lie slips so easily off Kingsley’s devil tongue, and he further accentuates the point with a little bow. The angle allows him to glance at Linus scribbling away every word of this meeting from the shadows of the room out of the corner of his eye.
There’s a pause. “You know, I see them in you. The same arrogance. The same ambition. The same justification. You think you’re a hero.”
For a single moment, Kingsley doubts his plans to eventually take down Wyatt and steal the throne for himself. Having been raised by the unsung heroes of the realm in the shadow of not one but two powerful souls occupying his body, he has always known that he has big boots to fill, but he’s stubborn enough to try to fill them anyway. He wants to live up to his name, his spiritual brother’s legacy, and his place in the Nein; he wants to be a hero like all of them. And with the Plank King calling him out for that secret desire, he feels seen and exposed in some deep way. He feels doubtful and afraid. He feels, for just that second, like he’s in over his head.
But whenever a blow to his confidence is swung his way, Kingsley has always swung back twice as hard and twice as fast. He lets his signature cocky grin grow a little more pointed. “Doesn’t everyone, your majesty?”
Luckily, the Plank King laughs. “Not all of us, Captain. Some of us know we’re the villain in everyone else’s story, and we embrace it. We use it instead of deluding ourselves to be something we’re not.” He leans forward on his stone throne. “You’re not a hero, Tealeaf. And neither are the Mighty Nein. Best you learn that now.”
Kingsley has to clench his hand into a fist to stop it from trembling with rage. He will not lose his temper over defending the Nein to someone who has already made up their mind about them, not when there’s an opportunity hidden in the King’s words. “Does that make us kindred spirits, then?”
The Plank King’s good humor lingers, a stark contrast to the stoicism Kingsley had been greeted with. It feels a little like Kingsley has been given a test and passed with flying colors.
“I wouldn’t go that far, Tealeaf,” the Plank King says. “But it does mean you have potential. Once you accept the truth and dispose of that hero complex of yours, then we might be able to talk a bit more cordially.”
Sensing an end to their conversation, Kingsley bows again. “I look forward to it, your majesty.”
As he heads down the Darktow cliffs to the docks, he tries not to wonder what the Nein would think of him if his plan to overthrow the Plank King fails.
(He especially tries not to wonder what they would think of him if his plan succeeds.)