Skipping past where Calvin is out of the tree, and have set foot back to the castle. . . (mainly due to how I forgot what I was originally going to put with the tree scenario aftermath)
Johanna and Calvin marched forth back to the castle, with the prince walking in an annoyed slouch of sorts. Johanna was keeping her appropriate stance, as her hand was tightly gripping upon the handle to her sword; ready for an attack. Though, while she was ready to whip out her weapon, her gaze was rather fixed more to just Calvin, who continued to slouch in an un-princely manner.
"Hey, Cal," Johanna began, jokingly, "Stand straight and powerful when you're walking. Don't want the peasants to reconsider how much of a brute you are, you know?"
Calvin gave a narrowed gaze toward his guards-woman. "Since when the hell were you my caretaker, again, Mieadov?" the prince had questioned. "Last I recalled, you were just my guard. Not a peasant mother." He rubbed his forehead, before retorting, "Also, I have informed you, several times, that you are not to refer to me as 'Cal.' It's honestly getting rather annoying."
The guards-woman chuckled. "But, I am this 'peasant mother,' Cal," Johanna noted, as she completely disregarded Calvin's previous statement. "I have a husband, a son, and a daughter."
The prince gave a glare at Johanna. "You understand what I mean, Johanna," Calvin told her. "You didn't need to rub in more details about being a peasant mother. You are basically admitting to the fact that you're an irrelevant woman, who happens to have an irrelevant man beside them, along with naive children."
Johanna gave a slight laugh at Calvin's words, as the castle soon came into their mere view, tall and strong, surrounding its people who stand on bones. "You know, Cal," Johanna began, as the pair soon reached the castle's entrance, "You're missing out on the better aspects in a life that may be worthwhile."
Calvin raised an eyebrow at Johanna, as they passed by guards who bowed respectively at the prince. "An aspect of being stuck in a tree, Mieadov?" he questioned, as they entered the castle, with guards who bowed at the prince from their stations.
Johanna gave a rather teasing nudge at the prince, like a friend with another friend. "It wasn't exactly that tall after I got you down," she told him, as they stopped inside the castle. Calvin rolled his eyes at the guards-woman. "Don't be ridiculous," the prince retorted. "It was, indeed, tall." Johanna only grinned at his words. "For you, that is," she added, as Calvin gave a frustrated growl. Johanna gave a hearty laugh, before clearing her throat.
"Well, I best return to my humble abode, now," Johanna informed. "It's a shame that you are unable to accompany me now, Calvin. My child was going to expect a royal visit, but I suppose another time may be appropriate."
The prince waved his hand in dismissal. "Go," Calvin said, before parting ways with Johanna. The guards-woman gave a sigh, as Johanna turned back to venture to her home, without her child's royal visit, nor the baskets of apples she had left behind.
"...Goodbye, Prince Calvin," Johanna murmured, despite his royal presence not being there.
Johanna and Calvin marched forth back to the castle, with the prince walking in an annoyed slouch of sorts. Johanna was keeping her appropriate stance, as her hand was tightly gripping upon the handle to her sword; ready for an attack. Though, while she was ready to whip out her weapon, her gaze was rather fixed more to just Calvin, who continued to slouch in an un-princely manner.
"Hey, Cal," Johanna began, jokingly, "Stand straight and powerful when you're walking. Don't want the peasants to reconsider how much of a brute you are, you know?"
Calvin gave a narrowed gaze toward his guards-woman. "Since when the hell were you my caretaker, again, Mieadov?" the prince had questioned. "Last I recalled, you were just my guard. Not a peasant mother." He rubbed his forehead, before retorting, "Also, I have informed you, several times, that you are not to refer to me as 'Cal.' It's honestly getting rather annoying."
The guards-woman chuckled. "But, I am this 'peasant mother,' Cal," Johanna noted, as she completely disregarded Calvin's previous statement. "I have a husband, a son, and a daughter."
The prince gave a glare at Johanna. "You understand what I mean, Johanna," Calvin told her. "You didn't need to rub in more details about being a peasant mother. You are basically admitting to the fact that you're an irrelevant woman, who happens to have an irrelevant man beside them, along with naive children."
Johanna gave a slight laugh at Calvin's words, as the castle soon came into their mere view, tall and strong, surrounding its people who stand on bones. "You know, Cal," Johanna began, as the pair soon reached the castle's entrance, "You're missing out on the better aspects in a life that may be worthwhile."
Calvin raised an eyebrow at Johanna, as they passed by guards who bowed respectively at the prince. "An aspect of being stuck in a tree, Mieadov?" he questioned, as they entered the castle, with guards who bowed at the prince from their stations.
Johanna gave a rather teasing nudge at the prince, like a friend with another friend. "It wasn't exactly that tall after I got you down," she told him, as they stopped inside the castle. Calvin rolled his eyes at the guards-woman. "Don't be ridiculous," the prince retorted. "It was, indeed, tall." Johanna only grinned at his words. "For you, that is," she added, as Calvin gave a frustrated growl. Johanna gave a hearty laugh, before clearing her throat.
"Well, I best return to my humble abode, now," Johanna informed. "It's a shame that you are unable to accompany me now, Calvin. My child was going to expect a royal visit, but I suppose another time may be appropriate."
The prince waved his hand in dismissal. "Go," Calvin said, before parting ways with Johanna. The guards-woman gave a sigh, as Johanna turned back to venture to her home, without her child's royal visit, nor the baskets of apples she had left behind.
"...Goodbye, Prince Calvin," Johanna murmured, despite his royal presence not being there.
Recently, at the Castle of Ash...
Inside the Royal Council Chambers...
"Keep everyone out of the council chamber! Get back! Get back!" Vygoren would stretch his arms across the doorway to prevent anyone from entering. That's when Caspar turned to Carmen, his face grey and tired. It would seem that the young princess was no fool to politics. "I take it by the Drow's presence, Relbregh wont be joining us." Carmen's words sank deep into Vygoren's mind. He hadn't admitted it, but he was also beginning to make the same assumptions. However, their opinions were far different, as Caspar would see.
"We can not afford this war, not with the King and prince's lives at stake, and assassins making their way through the pala-"-"Bah!!! Foolish child, what do you know of war?" Vygoren interrupted, a bit outraged by the young lady's lack of experience. The two would lock eyes ackwardly for a moment, as if having a silent staring contest. Neither the princess nor the duke particularly liked one another, and they had no qualms about showing it openly. But it was this open honesty between them that also made them trust each other more than others. Their mutual disgust for one another came with a sense of honor. Neither the princess nor the duke were truly capable of such a devious plot to assassinate someone. Vygoren immediately suspected Faedkyn of poisoning the council, having witnessed him leave Caspar's chamber with his own eyes. It never occurred to him that Faedkyn actually wasn't responsible for the massacre, but for something far more clever.
"I don't wish to interrupt you, my lady but your assumption is correct: Relbregh will not be joining us. I regret to say that he is dead." Lord Caspar would sadly confirm what Carmen and Vygoren had already presumed. But it was Caspar's next statement that really caught them all off guard. "Murdered - by Lord Thraen Valour." Vygoren's heart suddenly sank. Lord Thraen Valour? His second-in-command, and perhaps his best friend, was now officially being accused of treason. That's when it dawned on him. Thraen had stated to Vygoren that he didn't like the prince's thirst for blood. Thraen expressed to Vygoren that he didn't feel the prince was paying them enough for all of their services and loyalties. Had he finally lost his senses and assassinated Prince Relbregh? Vygoren couldn't bear to think it, but he now understood the reason for the drow's presence. Deep down, Vygoren wanted to accuse Faedkyn of lying, but in reality he knew that the Night Watchmen were not capable of committing treason. Unlike human knights and lords such as Thraen and himself, drows like Faedkyn had no free-will of their own but served whoever had the crown. As long as the Ashdowns were still kings, the Night Watchmen would remain loyal unto death. It had to have been Thraen, as hard as the truth was to swallow. That meant only one other thing for Vygoren; he would now have to kill Thraen Valour.
As the King's royal steward and the princess continued talking, Vygoren would investigate the council chamber. With nobody else in the room to disturb the crime scene, he locked the doors behind the maid as she left, issuing his own orders as she exited through the row of guards in the hallway. "Summon a priest, or someone who knows magic; and all the other maids when you're done." He then closed the door and locked it.
"My Lady, do I understand your wishes correctly: you aim to buy a ceasefire with the Pruvians, using yourself as a bargaining chip? Such a manoeuvre shows wisdom far beyond your years, but as Steward I do not know if I-"
"Absolutely not!!!" Again, the duke bellowed as Caspar took a breath. "Magnus is still the King of Ashendale, and I will not hand over his children to our enemies." Vygoren could not muster the thought of placing the Ashdowns in danger. But something else had also just dawned on him. With the king now bedridden, and the king's heir now dead along with all the king's council, it seemed that Princess Carmen was now presently the crown ruler of Ashendale, meaning that Vygoren's opinion no longer mattered, even if he was the Duke of Estvikt, for her deepest wishes had now just become the law of the land.
Caspar sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "You must be careful, that is all I ask. However, if you truly do intend to go through with it, then what are your instructions for the Court? We've just lost half of the ruling houses and our military marshal."
Vygoren nodded quietly in agreement with Caspar's statements as he walked back over to the small corner table, picking up the decanter full of freshly served liquor. He would pour some into a goblet and quickly gulp it down before immediately pouring another one. He then stepped over the dead bodies on the floor as he made his way around the room, looking for clues as to what had happened. He poured the liquor on to the long council table and then tipped over a candle, setting it ablaze with fire, as Vygoren was no stranger to elvish magic, and needed to sterilize the poison quickly before it started to spread. He would grab a towel and use it to pick up the wine pitchers, throwing them on to the table within the flames, along with the towel. After taking care of the situation, he would wait for Captain Daniels to return with all the kitchen maids. There was only one thing left for Vygoren to do, as he spilled his thoughts out loud. "Don't touch anything. If the drow had anything to do with this, it could be blood magic. Their blood is toxic to mortals... Where is Thraen...?" He asked quietly, keeping his other thoughts to himself as he finished off the remaining liquor in his cup.
Inside the Royal Council Chambers...
"Keep everyone out of the council chamber! Get back! Get back!" Vygoren would stretch his arms across the doorway to prevent anyone from entering. That's when Caspar turned to Carmen, his face grey and tired. It would seem that the young princess was no fool to politics. "I take it by the Drow's presence, Relbregh wont be joining us." Carmen's words sank deep into Vygoren's mind. He hadn't admitted it, but he was also beginning to make the same assumptions. However, their opinions were far different, as Caspar would see.
"We can not afford this war, not with the King and prince's lives at stake, and assassins making their way through the pala-"-"Bah!!! Foolish child, what do you know of war?" Vygoren interrupted, a bit outraged by the young lady's lack of experience. The two would lock eyes ackwardly for a moment, as if having a silent staring contest. Neither the princess nor the duke particularly liked one another, and they had no qualms about showing it openly. But it was this open honesty between them that also made them trust each other more than others. Their mutual disgust for one another came with a sense of honor. Neither the princess nor the duke were truly capable of such a devious plot to assassinate someone. Vygoren immediately suspected Faedkyn of poisoning the council, having witnessed him leave Caspar's chamber with his own eyes. It never occurred to him that Faedkyn actually wasn't responsible for the massacre, but for something far more clever.
"I don't wish to interrupt you, my lady but your assumption is correct: Relbregh will not be joining us. I regret to say that he is dead." Lord Caspar would sadly confirm what Carmen and Vygoren had already presumed. But it was Caspar's next statement that really caught them all off guard. "Murdered - by Lord Thraen Valour." Vygoren's heart suddenly sank. Lord Thraen Valour? His second-in-command, and perhaps his best friend, was now officially being accused of treason. That's when it dawned on him. Thraen had stated to Vygoren that he didn't like the prince's thirst for blood. Thraen expressed to Vygoren that he didn't feel the prince was paying them enough for all of their services and loyalties. Had he finally lost his senses and assassinated Prince Relbregh? Vygoren couldn't bear to think it, but he now understood the reason for the drow's presence. Deep down, Vygoren wanted to accuse Faedkyn of lying, but in reality he knew that the Night Watchmen were not capable of committing treason. Unlike human knights and lords such as Thraen and himself, drows like Faedkyn had no free-will of their own but served whoever had the crown. As long as the Ashdowns were still kings, the Night Watchmen would remain loyal unto death. It had to have been Thraen, as hard as the truth was to swallow. That meant only one other thing for Vygoren; he would now have to kill Thraen Valour.
As the King's royal steward and the princess continued talking, Vygoren would investigate the council chamber. With nobody else in the room to disturb the crime scene, he locked the doors behind the maid as she left, issuing his own orders as she exited through the row of guards in the hallway. "Summon a priest, or someone who knows magic; and all the other maids when you're done." He then closed the door and locked it.
"My Lady, do I understand your wishes correctly: you aim to buy a ceasefire with the Pruvians, using yourself as a bargaining chip? Such a manoeuvre shows wisdom far beyond your years, but as Steward I do not know if I-"
"Absolutely not!!!" Again, the duke bellowed as Caspar took a breath. "Magnus is still the King of Ashendale, and I will not hand over his children to our enemies." Vygoren could not muster the thought of placing the Ashdowns in danger. But something else had also just dawned on him. With the king now bedridden, and the king's heir now dead along with all the king's council, it seemed that Princess Carmen was now presently the crown ruler of Ashendale, meaning that Vygoren's opinion no longer mattered, even if he was the Duke of Estvikt, for her deepest wishes had now just become the law of the land.
Caspar sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "You must be careful, that is all I ask. However, if you truly do intend to go through with it, then what are your instructions for the Court? We've just lost half of the ruling houses and our military marshal."
Vygoren nodded quietly in agreement with Caspar's statements as he walked back over to the small corner table, picking up the decanter full of freshly served liquor. He would pour some into a goblet and quickly gulp it down before immediately pouring another one. He then stepped over the dead bodies on the floor as he made his way around the room, looking for clues as to what had happened. He poured the liquor on to the long council table and then tipped over a candle, setting it ablaze with fire, as Vygoren was no stranger to elvish magic, and needed to sterilize the poison quickly before it started to spread. He would grab a towel and use it to pick up the wine pitchers, throwing them on to the table within the flames, along with the towel. After taking care of the situation, he would wait for Captain Daniels to return with all the kitchen maids. There was only one thing left for Vygoren to do, as he spilled his thoughts out loud. "Don't touch anything. If the drow had anything to do with this, it could be blood magic. Their blood is toxic to mortals... Where is Thraen...?" He asked quietly, keeping his other thoughts to himself as he finished off the remaining liquor in his cup.
Carmen sighed eyeing the window adjusting her gown slightly. She looked over hearing the dukes grumbling and offered him a cold glare of her blue eyes. Her mothers face of which she had grown into forming the cold expression often used by Magnus himself.
"I know well enough that a good portion of our best men died during the siege, the ones we have left are either injured, sick or completely exhausted. I also know we have no citizens left who are fit to fight and bare arms. My arrangement not only buys us a ceasefire but it will buy is a good number of soldiers in wars to come if needed"
Her voice was sharp as she had snapped her anwser. The girl was bothered by very little however did not appreciate being treated like a child or dunce.
"Unfortunate about Relbregh, but as my father would say it's the price of being a coward. Truth be told he spent more time beating the defensless then fighting real men ..thus being unprepared for such an attack"
She trailed a thumb over the golden belt that lay over her layers of fabric. She turned her gaze to Casper taking the handkerchief dabbing her cheeks and eyes. Her face offered a gentle smile of thanks.
"For now keep eye for any letters from Pruvia, if they have accepted then we will prepare for the visit of their first born son or king himself. Being one of very few highborn daughters with a dowrey for miles there's a good chance they will agree"
She shifted her weight eyeing the door way. Lifting her skirt slightly over her feet or not trip. She stepped over to exit and looked back over her shoulder.
"Speaking of physicians, I wish to see how my father has been taken care of"
She glanced at Casper an expression of almost loathing at the mention of the woman.
"I would prefer to see with my own eyes then trust her word, specially considering what became of her last patient"
"I know well enough that a good portion of our best men died during the siege, the ones we have left are either injured, sick or completely exhausted. I also know we have no citizens left who are fit to fight and bare arms. My arrangement not only buys us a ceasefire but it will buy is a good number of soldiers in wars to come if needed"
Her voice was sharp as she had snapped her anwser. The girl was bothered by very little however did not appreciate being treated like a child or dunce.
"Unfortunate about Relbregh, but as my father would say it's the price of being a coward. Truth be told he spent more time beating the defensless then fighting real men ..thus being unprepared for such an attack"
She trailed a thumb over the golden belt that lay over her layers of fabric. She turned her gaze to Casper taking the handkerchief dabbing her cheeks and eyes. Her face offered a gentle smile of thanks.
"For now keep eye for any letters from Pruvia, if they have accepted then we will prepare for the visit of their first born son or king himself. Being one of very few highborn daughters with a dowrey for miles there's a good chance they will agree"
She shifted her weight eyeing the door way. Lifting her skirt slightly over her feet or not trip. She stepped over to exit and looked back over her shoulder.
"Speaking of physicians, I wish to see how my father has been taken care of"
She glanced at Casper an expression of almost loathing at the mention of the woman.
"I would prefer to see with my own eyes then trust her word, specially considering what became of her last patient"
Though Farran basked her black wings to the speed of 131 kilometers per hour, the insides of the satchel were left untouched. The satchels leather were that of a dragon, well on of the few that are left. It were cut from it while it were still alive, then it were released again.
"Listen, I have some questions" Said Baltimore walking in circles around the firepit, rubbing his chinstrip.
Lucifer were still looking in his supplies after his medkit. "I really need to clean up my shit" He looked up from the mess. "Sure, ask away" He replied and went back to looking for the medical supplies.
The dwarf looked around. "First of all, can you tell me this. Where in the name of the gods are we?" Lucifer stood up, walked over to Baltimore and looked him dead in the eyes. "Pocket dimension" He put so much pressure on the P, that spit hit Baltimores face. Then he went back look for the rubbing alcohol.
He wiped it off. "Well, could you not spit on me please, it brings back bad memories. Another question. Why the **** do you have a giant raven that flies you around?" He asked.
"Found it!" Shouted Lucifer and waved a bag with a red cross on it in the air. "Farran, she's an old friend, probably the oldest that I got. I owe her a very big favor. The only reason she carries us around is because she needs me for something she isn't available to do one her own" Said Lucifer and a shadow danced across his face.
"Well that took a turn for the darker one. Okay something lighter. Why did that lady call you an oyster when she found out you were Pruvian? It just seem so random" Asked the dwarf
"Me boy, you need a history lesson. You see oysters have had significant meaning through out Pruvia life. When the first seven tribes who would later become the seven territories, were at a bloody war with each others, a lonely oyster fisherman invited all the tribe chiefs to dinner. The fisherman lived in no mans land, so none of the chiefs had any power. In that little oyster hut, the dispute were settled, and the fisherman became the first Hrak of Pruvia. Now you now were our national dish came from, so now you are going to listen to the reason it has become a discriminating nickname for Pruvians. One hundred years ago under the rule of Hrak Pietrov the second. A plaque had spread in the waters and the oysters had gone bad before they could be served. But us Pruvians were too stubborn to stop eating our national dish. This resulted in a natinal wide case of diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, the usual stuff that happens when you get food poisoning from an oyster. By calling a Pruvian an oyster, you imply that they shit themself uncontrollably." Explained Lucifer.
"Ok, now I'm smarter. So should we get that chicken off you head?" Lucifer just nodded at the replied
"I think we can scuttle by on the rubbing alcohol, goatmilk and the beetroots, so now we need to find that" Sighed Lucifer, tired of having a chicken on his head.
"Listen, I have some questions" Said Baltimore walking in circles around the firepit, rubbing his chinstrip.
Lucifer were still looking in his supplies after his medkit. "I really need to clean up my shit" He looked up from the mess. "Sure, ask away" He replied and went back to looking for the medical supplies.
The dwarf looked around. "First of all, can you tell me this. Where in the name of the gods are we?" Lucifer stood up, walked over to Baltimore and looked him dead in the eyes. "Pocket dimension" He put so much pressure on the P, that spit hit Baltimores face. Then he went back look for the rubbing alcohol.
He wiped it off. "Well, could you not spit on me please, it brings back bad memories. Another question. Why the **** do you have a giant raven that flies you around?" He asked.
"Found it!" Shouted Lucifer and waved a bag with a red cross on it in the air. "Farran, she's an old friend, probably the oldest that I got. I owe her a very big favor. The only reason she carries us around is because she needs me for something she isn't available to do one her own" Said Lucifer and a shadow danced across his face.
"Well that took a turn for the darker one. Okay something lighter. Why did that lady call you an oyster when she found out you were Pruvian? It just seem so random" Asked the dwarf
"Me boy, you need a history lesson. You see oysters have had significant meaning through out Pruvia life. When the first seven tribes who would later become the seven territories, were at a bloody war with each others, a lonely oyster fisherman invited all the tribe chiefs to dinner. The fisherman lived in no mans land, so none of the chiefs had any power. In that little oyster hut, the dispute were settled, and the fisherman became the first Hrak of Pruvia. Now you now were our national dish came from, so now you are going to listen to the reason it has become a discriminating nickname for Pruvians. One hundred years ago under the rule of Hrak Pietrov the second. A plaque had spread in the waters and the oysters had gone bad before they could be served. But us Pruvians were too stubborn to stop eating our national dish. This resulted in a natinal wide case of diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, the usual stuff that happens when you get food poisoning from an oyster. By calling a Pruvian an oyster, you imply that they shit themself uncontrollably." Explained Lucifer.
"Ok, now I'm smarter. So should we get that chicken off you head?" Lucifer just nodded at the replied
"I think we can scuttle by on the rubbing alcohol, goatmilk and the beetroots, so now we need to find that" Sighed Lucifer, tired of having a chicken on his head.
Carmen after stating her intentions eyed the busy hallway with a quizzical gaze. Turning away from the door pacing across the room trailing her hand along the wall before pushing in on a panel not caring if her useage of the castles tunnel and passage system was seen. She offered a polite smile back as she stood in the frame.
"We shall talk more once I can confirm for myself that he is at the least still breathing.."
Her face almost saddened at the thought of the old man passing. With that she turned and stepped into the darkened tunnel following it carefully making it past all the ruckus of the staff. Stoping first in the palace kitchen she would prepare a small tray with a pie a pot of tea with two cups and cutlery. Having made everything herself to ensure it wasn't contaminated or tampered by other hands in such times Carmen was thankful she actually bothered to learn such domestics.
With the loaded tray in hand she made her way back through the tunnels up to the the kings chambers. Quietly entering from behind the portrait hung on the wall. Her steps stopped her hands gripping the tray as she eyes the contrapment that wired the whole room. She would take a heavy breath carefully stepping over it placing the tray on the night side table. With her hands now free she took the sight in carefully. She knew it well her
Mother has been pumped with the exact sludge. Taking note the physician wasn't present and probably summoned by now which would buy her time.
Carmen stepped over to the bed side reaching around carefully to remove the wires off her father with out disturbing him. Once he was unhooked she began to drain the liquid contents out through the window on the ground. Her hands gentle and quiet as she dismantled and packed away the tubing that lined the room.
"How are you going to gain strength and heal if you are dependant on such things"
With a sigh she pulled a chair up to the bed side and adjusted his pillow. Allowing him to sit up and wake him. Before cutting up the meal on the tray she had brought to feed him.
"Just needed a little rest, to eat your meals and drink something that is actually good for you. The country can't afford to have its king not care for his health, and we are not ready to a lose another parent"
She looked intently with a gentle gaze before dabbing his forehead with a cloth.
"We shall talk more once I can confirm for myself that he is at the least still breathing.."
Her face almost saddened at the thought of the old man passing. With that she turned and stepped into the darkened tunnel following it carefully making it past all the ruckus of the staff. Stoping first in the palace kitchen she would prepare a small tray with a pie a pot of tea with two cups and cutlery. Having made everything herself to ensure it wasn't contaminated or tampered by other hands in such times Carmen was thankful she actually bothered to learn such domestics.
With the loaded tray in hand she made her way back through the tunnels up to the the kings chambers. Quietly entering from behind the portrait hung on the wall. Her steps stopped her hands gripping the tray as she eyes the contrapment that wired the whole room. She would take a heavy breath carefully stepping over it placing the tray on the night side table. With her hands now free she took the sight in carefully. She knew it well her
Mother has been pumped with the exact sludge. Taking note the physician wasn't present and probably summoned by now which would buy her time.
Carmen stepped over to the bed side reaching around carefully to remove the wires off her father with out disturbing him. Once he was unhooked she began to drain the liquid contents out through the window on the ground. Her hands gentle and quiet as she dismantled and packed away the tubing that lined the room.
"How are you going to gain strength and heal if you are dependant on such things"
With a sigh she pulled a chair up to the bed side and adjusted his pillow. Allowing him to sit up and wake him. Before cutting up the meal on the tray she had brought to feed him.
"Just needed a little rest, to eat your meals and drink something that is actually good for you. The country can't afford to have its king not care for his health, and we are not ready to a lose another parent"
She looked intently with a gentle gaze before dabbing his forehead with a cloth.
Vygoren examined the bodies carefully for any signs of blood magic. Apart from being a talented fighter, map-reader, tracker, leader and bounty hunter, Lord Calygarn's mixture of skills also made him a fairly decent inspector. At the Castle of Estvikt, he was given the title of both the lawful Duke and Sheriff, and Vygoren's history with the Night Watchers gave him some advantages while doing his detective work. The first thing he would notice is that none of the council leaders had a blackish discoloration in their veins; and while this observation alone didn't necessarily rule out the drow, Vygoren still had no motive for Faedkyn Hylorra to do such a thing. Why would he kill the council? Even if they were human, they posed no threat to the drow. Vygoren kept his thoughts to himself as he checked the corpse's pockets, looking for any type of clues as to what had happened. Upon checking each corpse one at a time, Vygoren would drag the bodies into a pile near the corner of the room, stacking the dead on top of one another. Once the tabletop had burned away, Vygoren would smother the fire using the scorched tablecloth until all the flames were gone. It was about that time when Princess Carmen would state her concern for King Magnus, who was still illfully bedridden. Vygoren would inspect the ashes on the table, looking at the dried up wine stains and broken glass to be sure it had all been sterilized; for he knew that blood magic was no laughing matter, and he was filled with dread at the thought of what the corpses would become if they had actually been poisoned by the drow. "Too much time has passed. Where is that priest?!" Vygoren demanded, growing impatient with the messenger as he proceeded to stand guard near the corpses just in case they started to move. He looked over to Lord Caspar with concern.
Once inside the King's chamber, Carmen would discover that Avery was no longer in the room. Perhaps she had already got the summons and was on her way to Caspar's chamber; or perhaps she was off somewhere attempting to hide the evidence of her treachery. In either case, the recently deceased castle maid, Bethesda, seemed to have mysteriously vanished also and was now no longer laying lifeless in the middle of the floor. This was not a good sign, as Carmen approached her father's bedside and sat next to him, consoling him to get better.
Two hundred miles away, Lord Valour was still hiking northbound across the Kulrydalian golden plains. The tall oats and yellow grasses were up to his waist, concealing his lower body as he relieved himself, draining his pecker into a hole he had dug in the ground to mask his scent. He would let out a sigh of relief before tying and buttoning his pants up and covering the hole with dirt. Just then, he would notice something which caused him to drop down low in the tall grass and hide. It was a small regiment of Ashendalian foot soldiers. They had traveled from Castle Estvikt and were now in the heartland of Kulrydale, scouting the area for rebels and anyone else who might pose a threat to the Kingdom of Ash, perhaps even searching for Thraen himself. Lord Valour kept a sharp eye on the regiment as he snuck through the tall grassy hills towards the north, staying low until he got to the nearest village. Once there, he would stay hidden and observe the village from a distance, using a rudimentary spyglass telescope he fashioned from a broken whiskey bottle and a piece of leather parchment. The sign above the gate read: Welcome to Golden Village, the greatest town in all ofKulrydale; the word Kulrydale had been crossed out and painted over with Ashendale, showing that there had been a recent change in authority. Guardsmen stood at the village gates and were doing inspections as travellers and wanderers entered the town. Thraen knew that he needed to get into Golden Village and hitch a ride if he ever stood a chance of making it north to Pruvia in time. As he peered through his spyglass with one eye, surveying the village for any hidden entry points, Thraen suddenly felt a light prod on his back from the point of someone's pitchfork. "Hello deary, see anything ya like?" Thraen turned around to see a handful of Kulrydalian farmers looking down at him with farm tools in their hands and a wanted poster with his name on it. The farmer with the pitchfork just smiled, a mouth full of missing and rotten teeth being the last thing Lord Valour saw before someone clocked him in the back of the head with a large club, knocking him unconscious.
Meanwhile, the Night Watchers were having troubles of their own. As they headed northeast along King's Pass towards the Forest, some of the Watchmen became sick for no apparent reason, forcing them to stop and camp along the river. This upset Faedkyn Hylorra, who knew that the drow were being pressed for time. "I don't understand. Why is everyone getting sick?" It never occurred to anyone that Drizzt the Archer was carrying something in his pocket that was endowed with powerful magic, and was causing the drowish assassins to be cursed. Captain Drizzt was sitting alone inside his tent, playing with his newly found runestone with awe and interest. Neither Drizzt himself nor General Hylorra had fallen ill yet, and so it never occurred to Drizzt that his newly found treasure had been the cause of their illness. He toyed with the runestone, admiring it before putting it back in his pocket. This was about to be a long journey, he thought, as thunder crackled loudly and grumbled mildly outside his tent. Then it started raining slowly before suddenly showering, casting a gloomy grey haze over the drowish campsite as the hard brown dirt slowly turned to mud.
Once inside the King's chamber, Carmen would discover that Avery was no longer in the room. Perhaps she had already got the summons and was on her way to Caspar's chamber; or perhaps she was off somewhere attempting to hide the evidence of her treachery. In either case, the recently deceased castle maid, Bethesda, seemed to have mysteriously vanished also and was now no longer laying lifeless in the middle of the floor. This was not a good sign, as Carmen approached her father's bedside and sat next to him, consoling him to get better.
Two hundred miles away, Lord Valour was still hiking northbound across the Kulrydalian golden plains. The tall oats and yellow grasses were up to his waist, concealing his lower body as he relieved himself, draining his pecker into a hole he had dug in the ground to mask his scent. He would let out a sigh of relief before tying and buttoning his pants up and covering the hole with dirt. Just then, he would notice something which caused him to drop down low in the tall grass and hide. It was a small regiment of Ashendalian foot soldiers. They had traveled from Castle Estvikt and were now in the heartland of Kulrydale, scouting the area for rebels and anyone else who might pose a threat to the Kingdom of Ash, perhaps even searching for Thraen himself. Lord Valour kept a sharp eye on the regiment as he snuck through the tall grassy hills towards the north, staying low until he got to the nearest village. Once there, he would stay hidden and observe the village from a distance, using a rudimentary spyglass telescope he fashioned from a broken whiskey bottle and a piece of leather parchment. The sign above the gate read: Welcome to Golden Village, the greatest town in all of
Meanwhile, the Night Watchers were having troubles of their own. As they headed northeast along King's Pass towards the Forest, some of the Watchmen became sick for no apparent reason, forcing them to stop and camp along the river. This upset Faedkyn Hylorra, who knew that the drow were being pressed for time. "I don't understand. Why is everyone getting sick?" It never occurred to anyone that Drizzt the Archer was carrying something in his pocket that was endowed with powerful magic, and was causing the drowish assassins to be cursed. Captain Drizzt was sitting alone inside his tent, playing with his newly found runestone with awe and interest. Neither Drizzt himself nor General Hylorra had fallen ill yet, and so it never occurred to Drizzt that his newly found treasure had been the cause of their illness. He toyed with the runestone, admiring it before putting it back in his pocket. This was about to be a long journey, he thought, as thunder crackled loudly and grumbled mildly outside his tent. Then it started raining slowly before suddenly showering, casting a gloomy grey haze over the drowish campsite as the hard brown dirt slowly turned to mud.
Avery had spent the past few hours, distractedly reading the same passage of text over and over. She’d been physically present in the King's chambers but her thoughts had roamed the dimly lit halls of the Council rooms. She’d imagined different scenarios: she’d pictured Bethesda at work and - when she dared to be optimistic - watched as Carmen fell purple and died. It was a tantalizing thought but it was always chased off by the wisdom to never take anything for granted. Celebrations could wait till the deed was confirmed.
When Bethesda finally returned, there was a fleeting moment of joy where Avery assumed that the task had succeeded. But as the maid came into the light, it immediately became apparent that something was wrong.
The aged Bethesda had stumbled through the threshold, clutched by a dire desperation. Grasping, coughing, convulsing. Even Avery’s talents would be unable to save her at this stage; the woman was dying. Horrified by this turn-of-events, Avery retreated from the afflicted maid and curled up in the corner where she began to wring her hair with trembling fingers.
What had happened? How was this possible?
Avery looked back up at the scene. The ‘act’ was completed, leaving Bethesda’s discoloured body prone on the rug.
Avery's mind whirred. Her first instinct was to hide the body - dismember it, if necessary. But then she thought of the two guards situated in the corridor that would have clocked Bethesda's entry; they would be able to report the maid's last known whereabouts. Then, as her breathing returned to a steadier beat, she realized that her panic may have been premature: the discovery of a dead maid in Magnus’s chambers needn’t be a cause of concern for her. In the guard’s eyes, the maid may have been bringing a drink up for the King and foolishly drank from it before it could be put to Magnus’s lips. All evidence of the conspiracy died with Bethesda.
To complete this deception, Avery placed an empty goblet into the Maid’s hands before taking a breath and giving the scream of a frightened (and entirely innocent) damsel. The guards burst through in a matter of seconds, weapons ready. Avery fled towards the nearest and clutched his arm. Shock was written on his face.
“What in the name of-? What happened here?”
“She just collapsed and started twitching. I-I think she’s dead!”
“And the King, is the King okay?”
“Yes, yes he is fine. But I’m certain that he was the true target of this, that maid was merely bringing water up for his care.”
“This is not good. We will send for reinforcements to assess this situation; in the meantime, this area is off-limits. Even to you, Doctor.”
“Of course. I... I think I need a lie down.”
In the aftermath of Bethesda’s death, the soldiers would drag away the corpse and clean the floors, before then sealing off the King’s chambers and setting watchmen by the door. Avery was dismissed to her quarters - until Caspar’s message would reach her and she was marched down to the council room, to assist in a different investigation.
When Bethesda finally returned, there was a fleeting moment of joy where Avery assumed that the task had succeeded. But as the maid came into the light, it immediately became apparent that something was wrong.
The aged Bethesda had stumbled through the threshold, clutched by a dire desperation. Grasping, coughing, convulsing. Even Avery’s talents would be unable to save her at this stage; the woman was dying. Horrified by this turn-of-events, Avery retreated from the afflicted maid and curled up in the corner where she began to wring her hair with trembling fingers.
What had happened? How was this possible?
Avery looked back up at the scene. The ‘act’ was completed, leaving Bethesda’s discoloured body prone on the rug.
Avery's mind whirred. Her first instinct was to hide the body - dismember it, if necessary. But then she thought of the two guards situated in the corridor that would have clocked Bethesda's entry; they would be able to report the maid's last known whereabouts. Then, as her breathing returned to a steadier beat, she realized that her panic may have been premature: the discovery of a dead maid in Magnus’s chambers needn’t be a cause of concern for her. In the guard’s eyes, the maid may have been bringing a drink up for the King and foolishly drank from it before it could be put to Magnus’s lips. All evidence of the conspiracy died with Bethesda.
To complete this deception, Avery placed an empty goblet into the Maid’s hands before taking a breath and giving the scream of a frightened (and entirely innocent) damsel. The guards burst through in a matter of seconds, weapons ready. Avery fled towards the nearest and clutched his arm. Shock was written on his face.
“What in the name of-? What happened here?”
“She just collapsed and started twitching. I-I think she’s dead!”
“And the King, is the King okay?”
“Yes, yes he is fine. But I’m certain that he was the true target of this, that maid was merely bringing water up for his care.”
“This is not good. We will send for reinforcements to assess this situation; in the meantime, this area is off-limits. Even to you, Doctor.”
“Of course. I... I think I need a lie down.”
In the aftermath of Bethesda’s death, the soldiers would drag away the corpse and clean the floors, before then sealing off the King’s chambers and setting watchmen by the door. Avery was dismissed to her quarters - until Caspar’s message would reach her and she was marched down to the council room, to assist in a different investigation.
Caspar had not seen such disarray since the death of Celia and he drew back against the wall, fingers touched to his temples. Treason and death were running amok and the few remaining members of the Court were at each other's throats already. Perhaps fortunately, Carmen had no intention of remaining in the chambers, instead seeking to visit her father. She shared Caspar's distaste of the doctor and showed no qualms in openly saying so.
"I would prefer to see with my own eyes then trust her word, specially considering what became of her last patient."
This was a sore topic for all of the Kingdom and Caspar flinched as the memories resurfaced in him.
"I will never like that woman, either. But I'll begrudgingly admit that she has saved many of her- ah, other patients. But it is your right, as Princess, to visit the King. I will remain here with Lord Calygarn."
He gave a polite bow as the Princess strode away into the tunnels, before turning to observe Vygoren, who was engaged in some rather unusual behaviour.
"Just ensure you don't burn the place down, would you?"
Caspar cocked his head to the side and leaned against the door frame, happy to watch from afar. He would ordinarily be livid at the incineration of Palace wares, but these were exceptional circumstances.
"In all seriousness, I share your concerns Vygoren. I'd rather not send our few remaining Royals into the arms of the Oysters, but our voices - yours and mine - are small in this castle. We can advise, some days. But most of the time we must simply follow. Besides, I actually do believe that her Majesty's strategy is wise... in a reckless sort-of way. If the Pruvians remain honourable then the risk will be worth it. If they do not..."
He did not finish that sentence; he didn't need to.
___________________________________________
After sometime, Avery came down to the council room in the presence of two armed guards. She approached Caspar, but she couldn't help but stare at Vygoren and the pile of bodies he'd amassed in the corner.
"Lord Caspar, I.. uh. I was told you wanted me to help with something, although it looks like your tattooed friend has everything under control."
She ran an eye over the charred remains of the tabletop and perked a brow.
"We have just avoided a similar fate, up in the King's chambers. A maid dropped dead at Magnus's feet. I think she must have intercepted the poison, somehow."
"I would prefer to see with my own eyes then trust her word, specially considering what became of her last patient."
This was a sore topic for all of the Kingdom and Caspar flinched as the memories resurfaced in him.
"I will never like that woman, either. But I'll begrudgingly admit that she has saved many of her- ah, other patients. But it is your right, as Princess, to visit the King. I will remain here with Lord Calygarn."
He gave a polite bow as the Princess strode away into the tunnels, before turning to observe Vygoren, who was engaged in some rather unusual behaviour.
"Just ensure you don't burn the place down, would you?"
Caspar cocked his head to the side and leaned against the door frame, happy to watch from afar. He would ordinarily be livid at the incineration of Palace wares, but these were exceptional circumstances.
"In all seriousness, I share your concerns Vygoren. I'd rather not send our few remaining Royals into the arms of the Oysters, but our voices - yours and mine - are small in this castle. We can advise, some days. But most of the time we must simply follow. Besides, I actually do believe that her Majesty's strategy is wise... in a reckless sort-of way. If the Pruvians remain honourable then the risk will be worth it. If they do not..."
He did not finish that sentence; he didn't need to.
___________________________________________
After sometime, Avery came down to the council room in the presence of two armed guards. She approached Caspar, but she couldn't help but stare at Vygoren and the pile of bodies he'd amassed in the corner.
"Lord Caspar, I.. uh. I was told you wanted me to help with something, although it looks like your tattooed friend has everything under control."
She ran an eye over the charred remains of the tabletop and perked a brow.
"We have just avoided a similar fate, up in the King's chambers. A maid dropped dead at Magnus's feet. I think she must have intercepted the poison, somehow."
Carmen once the room was clean and the tray was ready to try an get him to eat stood from the chair to open the drapes. Sun shined in through the stained glass a ray of pink hued light casting over her as smiled softly.
"I'm going to need you to wake now, you're lunch and tea will get cold"
Her voice was in her softest of tones. She finished dabbing the sweat from his face. She leaned back in her chair for a moment looking at his face. The complexioned seemed to have improved slightly now that the grey liquid wasn't pumping in his veins.
"You should be able to move a bit more now with out those wires, though I would refrain from stress till you gain more strength back"
She reached her hands over pouring the hot water of the pot into the two tea cups. Was nothing complicated but a little pit of chamomile with a hint of Lilac. It wouldn't do anything drastic but ease the system to help one relax.
"Perhaps laying off wine and ale at your age might help"
"I'm going to need you to wake now, you're lunch and tea will get cold"
Her voice was in her softest of tones. She finished dabbing the sweat from his face. She leaned back in her chair for a moment looking at his face. The complexioned seemed to have improved slightly now that the grey liquid wasn't pumping in his veins.
"You should be able to move a bit more now with out those wires, though I would refrain from stress till you gain more strength back"
She reached her hands over pouring the hot water of the pot into the two tea cups. Was nothing complicated but a little pit of chamomile with a hint of Lilac. It wouldn't do anything drastic but ease the system to help one relax.
"Perhaps laying off wine and ale at your age might help"
"So do you have any ideas on why that village were behaving that strange, to say the least?" Asked Baltimore looking for the goatmilk. He opened cabinets, looked on shelfs, even opened that junk drawer everyone has. Then he finnaly found a jug of milk under Lucifers bed, it smelled sour, maybe it had gone bad. "Tell me, why in the name of Magnuses grandfathers magnificent beard are you keeping goat milk, a fluid that goes bad if exposed to air long enough, under your bed?!" Asked Baltimore, baffled byt the odd situation.
Lucifer walked over to his vegetable barrel, and opened it. "I'm a man of much knowledge, but I don't have any ideas so far". As Lucifer picked up the beetroots, he remembered the self illuminating mushrooms growing under their wine barrels. "Though I got a glimpse of some questionable fungi growing under their supply of wine, that might be the root to this problem" He found a cleaver and a chopping board and began to chop the beetroots in sticks. The cleaver were one meter away from his head. "I think it were... I got it on the tongue... Ah! A clutter of Imperium arida boletus were spiking their drinks. Also could you pour the milk into the cauldron, it's just over the firepit?".
Baltimore nodded and poured the rancid milk into the cauldron. "You still haven't given me an answer for why the milk is rancid and why it were under your bed" Asked Baltimore, mildly infuriated by this clear lack of sense.
"Pruvian superstition is the answer. Place your milk under your bed and demons will be prevented from turning it rancid" Replied Lucifer and poured the medical grade alcohol into the cauldron also with the beetroot sticks.
"Well it didn't fukken work, that's clear. So how long does it take to make?"
"30 minutes, the beetroots needs to be mush, the milk makes it creamy"
Thirty minutes later
"Well it's finished" Said Lucifer and with a ladle scooped some of the knockout soup up in a wooden bowl. He raised it up to the chicken, to let it eat it. After it had dipped its beak in it three or four times, it released its claws from Lucifers head. It fell over and on the floor. It gave a bloodcurdling scream and puked blood, then died. "Oh I remember, you can't digest rubbing alcohol. It's basically poison. Silly me" Giggled Lucifer and threw the poisoned chicken onto the fire. No smoke gave from it, no poisonous gasses from the rubbing alcohol vaporising.
Lucifer walked over to his vegetable barrel, and opened it. "I'm a man of much knowledge, but I don't have any ideas so far". As Lucifer picked up the beetroots, he remembered the self illuminating mushrooms growing under their wine barrels. "Though I got a glimpse of some questionable fungi growing under their supply of wine, that might be the root to this problem" He found a cleaver and a chopping board and began to chop the beetroots in sticks. The cleaver were one meter away from his head. "I think it were... I got it on the tongue... Ah! A clutter of Imperium arida boletus were spiking their drinks. Also could you pour the milk into the cauldron, it's just over the firepit?".
Baltimore nodded and poured the rancid milk into the cauldron. "You still haven't given me an answer for why the milk is rancid and why it were under your bed" Asked Baltimore, mildly infuriated by this clear lack of sense.
"Pruvian superstition is the answer. Place your milk under your bed and demons will be prevented from turning it rancid" Replied Lucifer and poured the medical grade alcohol into the cauldron also with the beetroot sticks.
"Well it didn't fukken work, that's clear. So how long does it take to make?"
"30 minutes, the beetroots needs to be mush, the milk makes it creamy"
Thirty minutes later
"Well it's finished" Said Lucifer and with a ladle scooped some of the knockout soup up in a wooden bowl. He raised it up to the chicken, to let it eat it. After it had dipped its beak in it three or four times, it released its claws from Lucifers head. It fell over and on the floor. It gave a bloodcurdling scream and puked blood, then died. "Oh I remember, you can't digest rubbing alcohol. It's basically poison. Silly me" Giggled Lucifer and threw the poisoned chicken onto the fire. No smoke gave from it, no poisonous gasses from the rubbing alcohol vaporising.
SPLASH!!! "Wake up!"
Thraen would open his eyes after suddenly being splashed in the face with a metal bucket of water. He looked a bit worse for wear, his messy black hair now dripping with water. His white shirt collar was saturated, and there was a large bump on the back of his head that no one else could see; and only Thraen seemed to feel.
He looked down at the hay covered ground he was now sitting on, only to notice that he had been shackled with large iron cuffs and chains. Someone had apparently confiscated all of his weapons, his money bag and even his boots, leaving him completely helpless and half naked apart from his pants and shirt. The grungy fellow with the metal bucket would smile before leaving the room. Afterwards, another fellow would enter Thraen's cell, holding a sword.
"Well well well, what do we have here? Thraen Valour, our hero; lord and knight, a legend in the flesh. Heheheh." As the man slowly stepped into the light, Thraen would see a tall clean-cut gentleman wearing black attire, with a pin on his shoulder signifying that he was some type of lawman, probably a town deputy. He was holding Thraen's sword in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship and decorations on the hilt. With its silver and gold inlays, such a blade was very expensive and could only be afforded by somebody of great social status, like Thraen Valour and the Savage Knights.
"Your reputation proceeds you, Lord Valour; I must say, I am very impressed." The lawman smiled, with perhaps a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he walked around the room, keeping his distance from Thraen's chains. Thraen would follow the man's movements with his eyes, gathering from the lawman's accent that they were still in eastern Kulrydale, no doubt at the Golden Village where Thraen had stopped.
"As you can see, there's been some changes in the law around here. Now that King Estvikt is dead, townsfolk everywhere have been appointing sheriffs and deputies like myself to oversee matters in every village throughout Kulrydale," the lawman continued. "I sent a letter to Castle Estvikt, to inform the Duke that you are imprisoned here. But he's currently not in Kulrydale at the moment. I'm told that he is still at Castle Ashdown, and won't be returning to Estvikt for some time." As the lawman spoke, he would slowly approach Thraen Valour and squat down in front of him, next to where Thraen was sitting in shackles.
"So what that basically means Lord Valour, is that your ass belongs to me now." The lawman smiled again, dangling a set of keys in front of his newly captured prisoner. Thraen would attempt to snatch the keys, but to no avail. His wrists were cuffed together and the chain connecting them was too short. The lawman chuckled light-heartedly as if to mock the barefoot prisoner before standing up again and sticking the keys into his black vest pocket. "Craiger!" he shouted, and soon the grungy looking fellow with the water bucket from earlier would walk back into the jail cell, holding a bucket of slop and rubbish. It was the sort of food that normally would be fed to the pigs and barn animals.
As the servant set the bucket down on the ground, the lawman would use his boot to slide the bucket closer to their captive. "Enjoy it Thraen, for this is your last meal. I've scheduled for you to be executed tomorrow at dawn." The lawman's words were blunt and showed little empathy, but the former Savage Knight showed no emotion at all; as if he was not surprised in the least by the fate they had gifted upon him. "How will you kill me?" Thraen asked quietly, looking down at the flies in the bucket. The lawman would walk towards the barred doors, stopping to address Thraen's one and only question. "The farmers requested that you be hanged." The lawman gave a sad and resting look before putting on his fedora. He would then tilt his hat to Thraen as if to say farewell before walking away. The barred doors would shut behind him, and Craiger the servant would lock the cell with a large chain and padlock before also walking away, leaving Thraen alone with nothing but his own thoughts in the dark. He would lean back against the wall and close his eyes.
Thraen would open his eyes after suddenly being splashed in the face with a metal bucket of water. He looked a bit worse for wear, his messy black hair now dripping with water. His white shirt collar was saturated, and there was a large bump on the back of his head that no one else could see; and only Thraen seemed to feel.
He looked down at the hay covered ground he was now sitting on, only to notice that he had been shackled with large iron cuffs and chains. Someone had apparently confiscated all of his weapons, his money bag and even his boots, leaving him completely helpless and half naked apart from his pants and shirt. The grungy fellow with the metal bucket would smile before leaving the room. Afterwards, another fellow would enter Thraen's cell, holding a sword.
"Well well well, what do we have here? Thraen Valour, our hero; lord and knight, a legend in the flesh. Heheheh." As the man slowly stepped into the light, Thraen would see a tall clean-cut gentleman wearing black attire, with a pin on his shoulder signifying that he was some type of lawman, probably a town deputy. He was holding Thraen's sword in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship and decorations on the hilt. With its silver and gold inlays, such a blade was very expensive and could only be afforded by somebody of great social status, like Thraen Valour and the Savage Knights.
"Your reputation proceeds you, Lord Valour; I must say, I am very impressed." The lawman smiled, with perhaps a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he walked around the room, keeping his distance from Thraen's chains. Thraen would follow the man's movements with his eyes, gathering from the lawman's accent that they were still in eastern Kulrydale, no doubt at the Golden Village where Thraen had stopped.
"As you can see, there's been some changes in the law around here. Now that King Estvikt is dead, townsfolk everywhere have been appointing sheriffs and deputies like myself to oversee matters in every village throughout Kulrydale," the lawman continued. "I sent a letter to Castle Estvikt, to inform the Duke that you are imprisoned here. But he's currently not in Kulrydale at the moment. I'm told that he is still at Castle Ashdown, and won't be returning to Estvikt for some time." As the lawman spoke, he would slowly approach Thraen Valour and squat down in front of him, next to where Thraen was sitting in shackles.
"So what that basically means Lord Valour, is that your ass belongs to me now." The lawman smiled again, dangling a set of keys in front of his newly captured prisoner. Thraen would attempt to snatch the keys, but to no avail. His wrists were cuffed together and the chain connecting them was too short. The lawman chuckled light-heartedly as if to mock the barefoot prisoner before standing up again and sticking the keys into his black vest pocket. "Craiger!" he shouted, and soon the grungy looking fellow with the water bucket from earlier would walk back into the jail cell, holding a bucket of slop and rubbish. It was the sort of food that normally would be fed to the pigs and barn animals.
As the servant set the bucket down on the ground, the lawman would use his boot to slide the bucket closer to their captive. "Enjoy it Thraen, for this is your last meal. I've scheduled for you to be executed tomorrow at dawn." The lawman's words were blunt and showed little empathy, but the former Savage Knight showed no emotion at all; as if he was not surprised in the least by the fate they had gifted upon him. "How will you kill me?" Thraen asked quietly, looking down at the flies in the bucket. The lawman would walk towards the barred doors, stopping to address Thraen's one and only question. "The farmers requested that you be hanged." The lawman gave a sad and resting look before putting on his fedora. He would then tilt his hat to Thraen as if to say farewell before walking away. The barred doors would shut behind him, and Craiger the servant would lock the cell with a large chain and padlock before also walking away, leaving Thraen alone with nothing but his own thoughts in the dark. He would lean back against the wall and close his eyes.
The royal bedchamber was a beautiful room that had seen some ugly, ugly things. Forgetting all of the torrid history that had stained the walls through darkened centuries, the room needn't look any further than the past twenty-four hours to see the depravity of mankind. If the stones could only speak, they would tell of unholy contraptions, conspiracies, treason and outright murder. And Magnus lay steeped in all of this.
Nothing good would come of it, but eventually the King's eyes did open and he saw the world, once again.
"Celia-?" His voice was rough and weak. "Where is she...?"
His eyes were wet and cloudy as stale water, but recognition flared in them when he found Carmen by the side of the bed. A grim smile managed to make it to his lips.
"I thought you'd run off. Forget something, did you?"
Nothing good would come of it, but eventually the King's eyes did open and he saw the world, once again.
"Celia-?" His voice was rough and weak. "Where is she...?"
His eyes were wet and cloudy as stale water, but recognition flared in them when he found Carmen by the side of the bed. A grim smile managed to make it to his lips.
"I thought you'd run off. Forget something, did you?"
Carmen looked up offering a gentle smile that could reflect the warmth of her own mother, her dimples poking into her cheeks. She shook her head as she brought the spoon of food to his face, her eyes refocused on him with an almost sadness. Her calm face withered under all the thoughts that had swirled in her head.
"No, I had hid from some bandits in Montra...figured I was safe with mom till they found me, When uncle Daniels had informed you were ill I got worried, I know what its like to lose a mother...I dont intend on losing a father to"
She cleared her throat fighting back any sign of tears she refused to cry an give more reason to be seen as the family weakness. She looked up with a sigh and a furrowed brow.
"I wont give details of what has happened, Not till you have the strength to take it..but Lord Valour has made himself a traitor..we have enemies every where around us, So I ..I ensured the safety of you Calvin and that of our country. Wont cost you any gold"
She would extend her arm to feed him her face was almost a sickly pale as weight and pressure of responsibility as well as the news and information she bared already reaped its toll. Her innocent features almost seemed to have cracked from it all.
"I figured being the family's stain ...I'd be least valuable trade to lose, and with Thraen Valours treachery, ..I am the only highborn female with out a betrothal, It can buy us soldiers"
"No, I had hid from some bandits in Montra...figured I was safe with mom till they found me, When uncle Daniels had informed you were ill I got worried, I know what its like to lose a mother...I dont intend on losing a father to"
She cleared her throat fighting back any sign of tears she refused to cry an give more reason to be seen as the family weakness. She looked up with a sigh and a furrowed brow.
"I wont give details of what has happened, Not till you have the strength to take it..but Lord Valour has made himself a traitor..we have enemies every where around us, So I ..I ensured the safety of you Calvin and that of our country. Wont cost you any gold"
She would extend her arm to feed him her face was almost a sickly pale as weight and pressure of responsibility as well as the news and information she bared already reaped its toll. Her innocent features almost seemed to have cracked from it all.
"I figured being the family's stain ...I'd be least valuable trade to lose, and with Thraen Valours treachery, ..I am the only highborn female with out a betrothal, It can buy us soldiers"
The waking world felt unfamiliar to the King; indeed, sunlight itself felt like an old friend whose name he could scarcely recall. A part of him distrusted this new state and Magnus secretly worried that his daughter might be some kind of apparition that could, at any moment, scatter like ash. But ghost or not, he allowed her to feed him and he listened warily to her words.
Such words; he got the sense that there was some great sadness lurking behind those pretty syllables. Something that was somehow worse than anything she was daring to say. But he would not pry yet: there was more than enough to be troubled by, for now.
I figured being the family's stain... - She had said this but she couldn't truly think such things, could she?
Magnus swallowed a painful gulp of porridge, managing to dribble some over the unshaven curve of his chin.
"You look almost as bad as me right now," he said, trying to laugh but coming up with a cough. "It's not right for someone so young to wear such stress."
With a trembling hand, he'd try to catch her arm as she spoon-fed him.
"You do not need to face these things alone."
Such words; he got the sense that there was some great sadness lurking behind those pretty syllables. Something that was somehow worse than anything she was daring to say. But he would not pry yet: there was more than enough to be troubled by, for now.
I figured being the family's stain... - She had said this but she couldn't truly think such things, could she?
Magnus swallowed a painful gulp of porridge, managing to dribble some over the unshaven curve of his chin.
"You look almost as bad as me right now," he said, trying to laugh but coming up with a cough. "It's not right for someone so young to wear such stress."
With a trembling hand, he'd try to catch her arm as she spoon-fed him.
"You do not need to face these things alone."
King's Pass, one mile from Ashdown Forest...
At the river north of Relbregh's Tower...
The drow were packing their bags, dropping their tents and getting ready to move out. It was pouring rain, and out of the 100 drow in commander Faedkyn Hyllora's company, half of them were now sick. As he walked around the camp, he would occassionally see one of his men in drowish armour curled over and vomiting into the mud. The sight of his archers in this condition brought a disgusted expression to Faedkyn's face, but this was no time for sympathy. Faedkyn gritted his fangs and looked out into the distance. Ashdown Forest was on the horizon, now well within his sights.
Captain Drizzt the Archer had already packed his tent and was now helping the others when suddenly, a horn sounded in the distance. It was loud, long and deep. Faedkyn looked up to see a large square formation heading his way on black horses. There in the southern horizon was a green banner bearing a gold star and shield. Mounted on top of the horses were 100 black skinned soldiers in bright green armor. It was a sight for sore eyes. Hyllora's reinforcements from Relbregh's Tower had arrived.
Meanwhile, at Castle Ashdown...
Vygoren Calygarn was still with Caspar Blackwood inside the Council chambers when Dr. Avery Fellwater entered the doorway, accompanied by two armed guards. Vygoren had never met Avery in person before and was not quite sure what to make of her presence. His first impression was that she was older looking, short and skinny, hardly seeming at all to him like someone who could pose a threat. But as she approached Caspar, she couldn't help but stare at Vygoren and the pile of bodies he'd amassed in the corner. The shirtless barbarian had been standing there, towering over them with his bastard sword ready to swing at any moment.
"Lord Caspar, I.. uh. I was told you wanted me to help with something, although it looks like your tattooed friend has everything under control. We have just avoided a similar fate, up in the King's chambers. A maid dropped dead at Magnus's feet. I think she must have intercepted the poison, somehow." As the doctor spoke, Lord Calygarn processed what she had said. By now, he was beginning to let go of the idea that it had been drowish poison. None of the council members seemed to show any signs of having been effected by blood magic.
But he had to be sure. "Where did they take her body? I'd like to see for myself," Vygoren said, having doubts of his own. Just then, there was a stir in the hallway. Sir Laren and Sir Walter had heard the commotion and had pushed their way through the gathered crowd to check on their commander. Sir Laren pushed his way through the guards and slid through the doorway into the council chamber. Being larger than most men, it was difficult to stop the savage knights. They still had no idea that the King was even bedridden, though, and had only heard from the chaos that someone had been poisoned. "M'lord Vygoren, what happened?!" Is the King alright??"
Meanwhile, at the Chapel...
Just outside the Inner Walls of Castle Ashdown...
Two henchmen walked up to the Chapel, pulling a wooden wheel cart behind them. They were greeted by one of the frairs, a jolly fat man wearing a brown robe. He had short dark hair, but the crown of his head was shaved completely bald. "What's this then?" the frair asked as the wheel cart stopped. "It's one of the kitchen maids. She's dead," explained the henchmen. Death was a common occurance in those times, and the frair seemed to treat the matter as a sort of financial business. He would hold his handkerchief to his nose while lifting the wool blanket that had been placed over the maid's head. He could see that her face was pale white, that her veins were black, and that her eyes were bloodshot. Her lips had become chapped and red, and some of her teeth had been cracked or chipped.
"Right, take her to the Morgue, it's in the back. I'll get to it later." The frair lowered the blanket back over the corpse's head and opened the small picket fence, waving them through. The henchmen would pull the cart around to the back of the Chapel, where the Morgue was located. The frair was a busy man, and would go back into the Chapel, trusting the henchmen to do their task alone. As one henchmen entered the Morgue, he saw that it was really just a cold cellar with an autopsy table, a coffin table, cosmetic appliances and tools to help prepare corpses for open casket funeral services inside the chapel. Along the wall were many vaults where cadavers were being kept frozen.
As the henchmen picked up Bethesda's body, they raised her out of the wheel cart and set her on to the autopsy table. Then one of the henchmen would slide open an empty vault to put her body in, while the other henchman turned to close the door. "Alright, let's do this and get out of here. It's freezing." The henchman turned around to assist with lifting the maid's body into the vault, but she was already sitting up. As the other henchman turned around, Bethesda would lunge from the autopsy table, latching on to him with her teeth and sharp nails. "What the f-" before he could even finish his statement, she bit into his throat and ripped out his jugular. The other henchman would let out a loud beckoning cry, but the Morgue door was thick and soundproof. Shaking and panicking, he turned back around and tried to open the door, but it was jammed. The handle was fozen, so he tried to jiggle it. "HEEEELLLP!!!" He shouted, but there was nobody around to hear his cries as he pounded on the heavy door.
Two hundred miles away, Thraen Valour would still be sitting in his cell, looking up at the ceiling as he contemplated his own death and how he was going to escape. Outside the stockade, Golden Village was progressing as the streets were bustling with merchants and traders, craftsmen and travellers. "Keep calling me that, I'll wallop you." Garrett was one such traveler. "With those hands? I bet you hit like a ronyon." Anton was an instigator, and the village idiot. Garrett was just in town selling rabbit furs when Anton walked up and started issuing insults to him for killing rabbits. This went on for a moment, as Garrett tried to ignore it, but Anton was a poet with words.
"I bet you're not even a good hunter. That's why you use traps, isn't it? You cumberworld quisby, born of a pennywife, milkfarm bathing stickfid." He just kept harrassing the poor fur trader. "I will wallop you, on Melkur's boots I swear it!" Garrett stopped his fur cart and rolled up his armsleeves. "Stickfid! Stickfid! Stickf-" Garrett walloped him alright, knocking Anton on to the ground. Anton would grab onto Garrett's leg though and pull him down to the ground with him. The two of them began fighting and wrestling in the dirt. It was almost comical. Clearly, neither one of them was any good at fighting. Anton would punch Garrett in the head, but wince afterwards from hurting his fist on the traveller's hard skull. Garrett for the most part was just trying to get up while holding his pants up. His lack of flexibility made it difficult, and some other townsfolk had gathered around to laugh at them as the guards came and broke it up. "Alright you scoundrels, that's enough." The guards arrested Anton and Garrett for hitting each other, throwing shackles on both of them before dragging them off to the stockade.
Despite the situation, Anton continued to hurl insults at Garrett along the way. "Stickfid! Stickfid! Born of a stickfid!" One of the guards would smack Anton with his gauntlet, splitting his face open instantly. "Silence, peasant!" The guard yelled. Anton just looked at him and smiled. Once at the stockade, Anton and Garrett would be thrown into seperate holding cells. Right next to them, they would see Thraen Valour, still shackled and sitting with his back against the wall. Thraen was looking up at the ceiling, minding his own business. Garrett immediately withdrew to a corner and hid. Anton, on the other hand, leaned up against the bars and smiled, issuing one more insult, this time to the guard who had smited him. "You may wanna take a bath by the way," he said with a wink, blood running down his cheek from the slice under his eye. The disgruntled guard just shook his head and walked away.
At the river north of Relbregh's Tower...
The drow were packing their bags, dropping their tents and getting ready to move out. It was pouring rain, and out of the 100 drow in commander Faedkyn Hyllora's company, half of them were now sick. As he walked around the camp, he would occassionally see one of his men in drowish armour curled over and vomiting into the mud. The sight of his archers in this condition brought a disgusted expression to Faedkyn's face, but this was no time for sympathy. Faedkyn gritted his fangs and looked out into the distance. Ashdown Forest was on the horizon, now well within his sights.
Captain Drizzt the Archer had already packed his tent and was now helping the others when suddenly, a horn sounded in the distance. It was loud, long and deep. Faedkyn looked up to see a large square formation heading his way on black horses. There in the southern horizon was a green banner bearing a gold star and shield. Mounted on top of the horses were 100 black skinned soldiers in bright green armor. It was a sight for sore eyes. Hyllora's reinforcements from Relbregh's Tower had arrived.
Meanwhile, at Castle Ashdown...
Vygoren Calygarn was still with Caspar Blackwood inside the Council chambers when Dr. Avery Fellwater entered the doorway, accompanied by two armed guards. Vygoren had never met Avery in person before and was not quite sure what to make of her presence. His first impression was that she was older looking, short and skinny, hardly seeming at all to him like someone who could pose a threat. But as she approached Caspar, she couldn't help but stare at Vygoren and the pile of bodies he'd amassed in the corner. The shirtless barbarian had been standing there, towering over them with his bastard sword ready to swing at any moment.
"Lord Caspar, I.. uh. I was told you wanted me to help with something, although it looks like your tattooed friend has everything under control. We have just avoided a similar fate, up in the King's chambers. A maid dropped dead at Magnus's feet. I think she must have intercepted the poison, somehow." As the doctor spoke, Lord Calygarn processed what she had said. By now, he was beginning to let go of the idea that it had been drowish poison. None of the council members seemed to show any signs of having been effected by blood magic.
But he had to be sure. "Where did they take her body? I'd like to see for myself," Vygoren said, having doubts of his own. Just then, there was a stir in the hallway. Sir Laren and Sir Walter had heard the commotion and had pushed their way through the gathered crowd to check on their commander. Sir Laren pushed his way through the guards and slid through the doorway into the council chamber. Being larger than most men, it was difficult to stop the savage knights. They still had no idea that the King was even bedridden, though, and had only heard from the chaos that someone had been poisoned. "M'lord Vygoren, what happened?!" Is the King alright??"
Meanwhile, at the Chapel...
Just outside the Inner Walls of Castle Ashdown...
Two henchmen walked up to the Chapel, pulling a wooden wheel cart behind them. They were greeted by one of the frairs, a jolly fat man wearing a brown robe. He had short dark hair, but the crown of his head was shaved completely bald. "What's this then?" the frair asked as the wheel cart stopped. "It's one of the kitchen maids. She's dead," explained the henchmen. Death was a common occurance in those times, and the frair seemed to treat the matter as a sort of financial business. He would hold his handkerchief to his nose while lifting the wool blanket that had been placed over the maid's head. He could see that her face was pale white, that her veins were black, and that her eyes were bloodshot. Her lips had become chapped and red, and some of her teeth had been cracked or chipped.
"Right, take her to the Morgue, it's in the back. I'll get to it later." The frair lowered the blanket back over the corpse's head and opened the small picket fence, waving them through. The henchmen would pull the cart around to the back of the Chapel, where the Morgue was located. The frair was a busy man, and would go back into the Chapel, trusting the henchmen to do their task alone. As one henchmen entered the Morgue, he saw that it was really just a cold cellar with an autopsy table, a coffin table, cosmetic appliances and tools to help prepare corpses for open casket funeral services inside the chapel. Along the wall were many vaults where cadavers were being kept frozen.
As the henchmen picked up Bethesda's body, they raised her out of the wheel cart and set her on to the autopsy table. Then one of the henchmen would slide open an empty vault to put her body in, while the other henchman turned to close the door. "Alright, let's do this and get out of here. It's freezing." The henchman turned around to assist with lifting the maid's body into the vault, but she was already sitting up. As the other henchman turned around, Bethesda would lunge from the autopsy table, latching on to him with her teeth and sharp nails. "What the f-" before he could even finish his statement, she bit into his throat and ripped out his jugular. The other henchman would let out a loud beckoning cry, but the Morgue door was thick and soundproof. Shaking and panicking, he turned back around and tried to open the door, but it was jammed. The handle was fozen, so he tried to jiggle it. "HEEEELLLP!!!" He shouted, but there was nobody around to hear his cries as he pounded on the heavy door.
Two hundred miles away, Thraen Valour would still be sitting in his cell, looking up at the ceiling as he contemplated his own death and how he was going to escape. Outside the stockade, Golden Village was progressing as the streets were bustling with merchants and traders, craftsmen and travellers. "Keep calling me that, I'll wallop you." Garrett was one such traveler. "With those hands? I bet you hit like a ronyon." Anton was an instigator, and the village idiot. Garrett was just in town selling rabbit furs when Anton walked up and started issuing insults to him for killing rabbits. This went on for a moment, as Garrett tried to ignore it, but Anton was a poet with words.
"I bet you're not even a good hunter. That's why you use traps, isn't it? You cumberworld quisby, born of a pennywife, milkfarm bathing stickfid." He just kept harrassing the poor fur trader. "I will wallop you, on Melkur's boots I swear it!" Garrett stopped his fur cart and rolled up his armsleeves. "Stickfid! Stickfid! Stickf-" Garrett walloped him alright, knocking Anton on to the ground. Anton would grab onto Garrett's leg though and pull him down to the ground with him. The two of them began fighting and wrestling in the dirt. It was almost comical. Clearly, neither one of them was any good at fighting. Anton would punch Garrett in the head, but wince afterwards from hurting his fist on the traveller's hard skull. Garrett for the most part was just trying to get up while holding his pants up. His lack of flexibility made it difficult, and some other townsfolk had gathered around to laugh at them as the guards came and broke it up. "Alright you scoundrels, that's enough." The guards arrested Anton and Garrett for hitting each other, throwing shackles on both of them before dragging them off to the stockade.
Despite the situation, Anton continued to hurl insults at Garrett along the way. "Stickfid! Stickfid! Born of a stickfid!" One of the guards would smack Anton with his gauntlet, splitting his face open instantly. "Silence, peasant!" The guard yelled. Anton just looked at him and smiled. Once at the stockade, Anton and Garrett would be thrown into seperate holding cells. Right next to them, they would see Thraen Valour, still shackled and sitting with his back against the wall. Thraen was looking up at the ceiling, minding his own business. Garrett immediately withdrew to a corner and hid. Anton, on the other hand, leaned up against the bars and smiled, issuing one more insult, this time to the guard who had smited him. "You may wanna take a bath by the way," he said with a wink, blood running down his cheek from the slice under his eye. The disgruntled guard just shook his head and walked away.
Carmen grabbed the handkerchief off the tray dabbing his face clean, she turned to look back at him with eyes much like his own matching in colour and the heavy gaze they would carry. She lightly took his hand with a heavy sigh.
“Please remain seated and not to stress yourself anymore then you already are....Relbregh, he’s gone, Thaeren took his head we currently have a search to have him brought in to pay for tease crimes. Wine served in the council chamber was poisoned, had I not been familiar with the tears of Lease and its smell I would have lost my own life, I tried to stop them from drinking it before I could turn around they all dropped like flies”
She took a deep breath the calm face she had been holding so tightly to shattering to that of tears she clenched slightly tighter. Keeping her mouth shut to remain silent as the water would pour down her face.
“These wars are coming to our door steps, and we can barely trust anyone in the courts...I didn’t know what else to do, but I want to protect you and Calvin. When I get here you were wired up like mother I couldn’t stand the sight of it”
“Please remain seated and not to stress yourself anymore then you already are....Relbregh, he’s gone, Thaeren took his head we currently have a search to have him brought in to pay for tease crimes. Wine served in the council chamber was poisoned, had I not been familiar with the tears of Lease and its smell I would have lost my own life, I tried to stop them from drinking it before I could turn around they all dropped like flies”
She took a deep breath the calm face she had been holding so tightly to shattering to that of tears she clenched slightly tighter. Keeping her mouth shut to remain silent as the water would pour down her face.
“These wars are coming to our door steps, and we can barely trust anyone in the courts...I didn’t know what else to do, but I want to protect you and Calvin. When I get here you were wired up like mother I couldn’t stand the sight of it”
Meanwhile, in Pruvia.
Lorsma, Hrak's Castle
Oleg, the king's advisor, was quickly walking towards the training yard, where Hrak Vladimir was spending his free time honing his combat skills. He was clutching a letter, sealed with red rose wax seal. Vladimir was just finishing his bow training, when Oleg addressed him.
- My king? There’s a correspondence for you…
Vladimir put the bow aside, looked at the training dummy that served him as a target, winced, seemingly dissatisfied with the results and started to remove leather bracers.
- Who is the sender? - he asked, putting the bracers down and turning to Oleg.
- The letter bears the seal of Ashdown family…
Vladimir's eyes became focused, he pondered for a moment then nodded his head.
- That's highly unusual. It must be something of great importance. I don't remember Ashdowns paying much mind to diplomacy, they have an army to do their talking for them. Come, we need to discuss this.
They left the training yard, entered the castle and went straight to Vladimir’s study.
As they were entering the study, Vladimir ordered the guards not to disturb them, as they had important matters to discuss.
Oleg put the letter onto the desk before Vladimir and remained standing, while the latter was taking a seat in his chair.
- No, no... Sit down, Oleg. I think we will spend quite some time discussing this matter.
Oleg took his place opposite Vladimir, while the latter opened the letter and started reading.
Dearest of Neighbors
Circumstances have arose that currently leave my in a position to take responsibility over my fathers’ estate. Under these grounds and my own moral compass I simply cannot condone the war or bloodshed. I write to you in an attempt to form an alliance between our lands. I ask if you would agree to a treaty of truce, assist us with our defense, but most importantly I seek aid in repairing agriculture. The kings’ method of simply taking land will not help replenish our resources. I know that without help our people will only perish because of his actions. I also know one cannot get something for nothing, I stand as King Magnus' only daughter as well as the only highborn daughter with a dowry for many realms and neighboring countries. My offer for this treaty is my own hand, and three seats on our crowns council for your house. If you agree to this any decision made will be to benefit both lands and their inhabitants.
Before you need decide, I would offer on to you a visit to Castle Ashdown for yourself and two guards to ensure your safety as well as ours. Perhaps discussing details in person might help ease your mind.
Sincerely,
Carmen Ashdown
Princess of Ashendale
As Vladimir was reading the letter, he felt his heart skip a beat and a chill running down his spine, spreading into his blood, his throat drying. He shivered slightly.
I haven’t felt THAT for a while... - he thought, while shrugging his shoulders and trying to compose himself.
He slid the letter towards his advisor, leaned back, closed his eyes and rubbed his beard, pondering, while Oleg himself was reading the text.
Moments later he opened his eyes and met Oleg's glance.
- I don't understand... Why is this letter penned by Princess Carmen? Shouldn't King Magnus or his sons be leading the kingdom?
- I could ask you the same question. Those "circumstances" she mentions must have really changed the power structure of the Kingdom of Ash... – Vladimir said, leaning forwards and putting his arms on the table.
- They invite you to discuss potential alliance. And the princess is ready to offer her hand AND seats in the council? Normally they wouldn’t even think about something like that… And they only allow two guards for your escort? Going there is like entering lion's den, it's their territory, so why is it for "their" safety? Are they afraid we might make a preemptive strike at the moment of their potential weakness?
- Do note, that she doesn’t offer her heart… It seems she has little to no choice in the matter, sees no other options. It all feels like… desperation. I believe I should answer their invitation and at the very least listen to what they have to say, without delay. If I am right, and things are that bad, we may not know what can come next.
- And what if it is all an elaborate trap? They’ll lure you in, kill you, and then use the moment of disorientation to mount an all-out attack? Without Hrak to unite the Omarks, our kingdom will fall into complete chaos, will not be able to defend itself and will be easy to conquer.
- What other options do we have? Remain silent? Show disrespect by ignoring the official invitation? That will not do. - Vladimir stood up and started pacing back and forth across the study. - Such an opportunity must not be missed – if we can form an alliance, we can potentially prevent any threat of war between us. I don’t want our people to suffer again, they had enough of it during the civil war… - he stopped, turning his eyes towards Oleg. - I must go there. While I am away, you will be acting on my behalf. Invite Alexei and Oksana. They will be my escort on this journey. Prepare everything else – cancel all appointments I might have, send letters to announce my visit and to inform Omarks about my departure. I must move out in two days.
Oleg watched at him, seemingly wanting to say something, but instead stood up and bowed.
- As you wish, my King...
He left the study, leaving Vladimir alone.
Vladimir approached the window and emitted a long heavy sigh, while looking at the grey skies. His expression was vacant and his mind was wandering elsewhere...
Lorsma, Hrak's Castle
Oleg, the king's advisor, was quickly walking towards the training yard, where Hrak Vladimir was spending his free time honing his combat skills. He was clutching a letter, sealed with red rose wax seal. Vladimir was just finishing his bow training, when Oleg addressed him.
- My king? There’s a correspondence for you…
Vladimir put the bow aside, looked at the training dummy that served him as a target, winced, seemingly dissatisfied with the results and started to remove leather bracers.
- Who is the sender? - he asked, putting the bracers down and turning to Oleg.
- The letter bears the seal of Ashdown family…
Vladimir's eyes became focused, he pondered for a moment then nodded his head.
- That's highly unusual. It must be something of great importance. I don't remember Ashdowns paying much mind to diplomacy, they have an army to do their talking for them. Come, we need to discuss this.
They left the training yard, entered the castle and went straight to Vladimir’s study.
As they were entering the study, Vladimir ordered the guards not to disturb them, as they had important matters to discuss.
Oleg put the letter onto the desk before Vladimir and remained standing, while the latter was taking a seat in his chair.
- No, no... Sit down, Oleg. I think we will spend quite some time discussing this matter.
Oleg took his place opposite Vladimir, while the latter opened the letter and started reading.
Dearest of Neighbors
Circumstances have arose that currently leave my in a position to take responsibility over my fathers’ estate. Under these grounds and my own moral compass I simply cannot condone the war or bloodshed. I write to you in an attempt to form an alliance between our lands. I ask if you would agree to a treaty of truce, assist us with our defense, but most importantly I seek aid in repairing agriculture. The kings’ method of simply taking land will not help replenish our resources. I know that without help our people will only perish because of his actions. I also know one cannot get something for nothing, I stand as King Magnus' only daughter as well as the only highborn daughter with a dowry for many realms and neighboring countries. My offer for this treaty is my own hand, and three seats on our crowns council for your house. If you agree to this any decision made will be to benefit both lands and their inhabitants.
Before you need decide, I would offer on to you a visit to Castle Ashdown for yourself and two guards to ensure your safety as well as ours. Perhaps discussing details in person might help ease your mind.
Sincerely,
Carmen Ashdown
Princess of Ashendale
As Vladimir was reading the letter, he felt his heart skip a beat and a chill running down his spine, spreading into his blood, his throat drying. He shivered slightly.
I haven’t felt THAT for a while... - he thought, while shrugging his shoulders and trying to compose himself.
He slid the letter towards his advisor, leaned back, closed his eyes and rubbed his beard, pondering, while Oleg himself was reading the text.
Moments later he opened his eyes and met Oleg's glance.
- I don't understand... Why is this letter penned by Princess Carmen? Shouldn't King Magnus or his sons be leading the kingdom?
- I could ask you the same question. Those "circumstances" she mentions must have really changed the power structure of the Kingdom of Ash... – Vladimir said, leaning forwards and putting his arms on the table.
- They invite you to discuss potential alliance. And the princess is ready to offer her hand AND seats in the council? Normally they wouldn’t even think about something like that… And they only allow two guards for your escort? Going there is like entering lion's den, it's their territory, so why is it for "their" safety? Are they afraid we might make a preemptive strike at the moment of their potential weakness?
- Do note, that she doesn’t offer her heart… It seems she has little to no choice in the matter, sees no other options. It all feels like… desperation. I believe I should answer their invitation and at the very least listen to what they have to say, without delay. If I am right, and things are that bad, we may not know what can come next.
- And what if it is all an elaborate trap? They’ll lure you in, kill you, and then use the moment of disorientation to mount an all-out attack? Without Hrak to unite the Omarks, our kingdom will fall into complete chaos, will not be able to defend itself and will be easy to conquer.
- What other options do we have? Remain silent? Show disrespect by ignoring the official invitation? That will not do. - Vladimir stood up and started pacing back and forth across the study. - Such an opportunity must not be missed – if we can form an alliance, we can potentially prevent any threat of war between us. I don’t want our people to suffer again, they had enough of it during the civil war… - he stopped, turning his eyes towards Oleg. - I must go there. While I am away, you will be acting on my behalf. Invite Alexei and Oksana. They will be my escort on this journey. Prepare everything else – cancel all appointments I might have, send letters to announce my visit and to inform Omarks about my departure. I must move out in two days.
Oleg watched at him, seemingly wanting to say something, but instead stood up and bowed.
- As you wish, my King...
He left the study, leaving Vladimir alone.
Vladimir approached the window and emitted a long heavy sigh, while looking at the grey skies. His expression was vacant and his mind was wandering elsewhere...
The more he heard, the more Magnus found that this 'reality' was no better than the drug-soaked nightmares he'd awoken from. His eldest son was dead and his Kingdom lay in chaos. Somewhere beneath his corpulent flesh, the King's heart shivered as something strange stirred within him: he was scared.
"These are... dark days," he croaked, relinquishing Carmen's arm with a tender squeeze.
Turning his head to the side, he brushed an unseen tear off against his thumb.
"Darker than I'd ever thought to see."
While trying to hide his pain in faded tapestries on the far wall, Magnus registered a vague shape, joining him on the bed. It was grey in colour and it clung to the periphery of his eye - never growing fully visible, no matter how hard he tried to 'see' it. He heard a child's laughter and Celia's voice, whispering.
Abruptly, he forced himself upright and turned his attention back to Carmen. The whispering stopped, though Magnus cast furtive glances around the room as if challenging the weirdness to begin again.
"We... we'll find a solution," he said quickly, hoping to conceal the episode. "How many of the Council perished? All of them? Caspar, too-? And what of your brother? Your-"
He gave an unhappy sigh.
"Your other brother: how is Calvin?"
For all of his grief, Magnus then fell upon a strange realization; one that brought a faint smile to his cracked lips.
"You know... we will be quite lost without you, daughter. I only wish that it had not taken such tragedy for me to see that."
"These are... dark days," he croaked, relinquishing Carmen's arm with a tender squeeze.
Turning his head to the side, he brushed an unseen tear off against his thumb.
"Darker than I'd ever thought to see."
While trying to hide his pain in faded tapestries on the far wall, Magnus registered a vague shape, joining him on the bed. It was grey in colour and it clung to the periphery of his eye - never growing fully visible, no matter how hard he tried to 'see' it. He heard a child's laughter and Celia's voice, whispering.
Abruptly, he forced himself upright and turned his attention back to Carmen. The whispering stopped, though Magnus cast furtive glances around the room as if challenging the weirdness to begin again.
"We... we'll find a solution," he said quickly, hoping to conceal the episode. "How many of the Council perished? All of them? Caspar, too-? And what of your brother? Your-"
He gave an unhappy sigh.
"Your other brother: how is Calvin?"
For all of his grief, Magnus then fell upon a strange realization; one that brought a faint smile to his cracked lips.
"You know... we will be quite lost without you, daughter. I only wish that it had not taken such tragedy for me to see that."
"Where did they take her body? I'd like to see for myself," asked Vygoren.
Avery cocked her head, wary of the stranger. She had an inkling of whom she was speaking to, but it was not until the Savage Knights arrived and addressed their Lord that Avery's suspicions were confirmed. She turned aside to Caspar and spoke quietly.
"This is Vygoren Calygarn?"
"It is, yes."
In the King's absence, the doctor had used her position to gain a vast understanding of the political movements of the realm. Calygarn was de facto ruler of Estvikt's old Kingdom and given the 'vacancies' in land and titles that would surely open up after Council's death, he was only poised to grow in power. Her eyes gleamed with ambition as she reverted her gaze back upon the muscle-bound warlord.
"You sir, are Lord Calygarn? Ah, so you two must be members of the renowned 'Savage Knights'. Your reputations do you no justice."
She offered a curtsy, prompting Caspar to roll his eyes.
"As the King's physician I can tell you that - although we had a moment of panic - he is doing fine. A poor maid has been killed but the palace guards have dealt with this matter by sealing the King's chambers and taking the body away to the morgue. I can show you the way there, my Lord, if you're unfamiliar with the Castle?"
She gave a smile. Sweet - almost too much so.
She was trying so desperately to put on a pretty show but inside, she was rattled; she hadn't seen Carmen in the room, which meant that wretched Princess could be sticking her nose in unwanted places. Her time might be running out.
Avery cocked her head, wary of the stranger. She had an inkling of whom she was speaking to, but it was not until the Savage Knights arrived and addressed their Lord that Avery's suspicions were confirmed. She turned aside to Caspar and spoke quietly.
"This is Vygoren Calygarn?"
"It is, yes."
In the King's absence, the doctor had used her position to gain a vast understanding of the political movements of the realm. Calygarn was de facto ruler of Estvikt's old Kingdom and given the 'vacancies' in land and titles that would surely open up after Council's death, he was only poised to grow in power. Her eyes gleamed with ambition as she reverted her gaze back upon the muscle-bound warlord.
"You sir, are Lord Calygarn? Ah, so you two must be members of the renowned 'Savage Knights'. Your reputations do you no justice."
She offered a curtsy, prompting Caspar to roll his eyes.
"As the King's physician I can tell you that - although we had a moment of panic - he is doing fine. A poor maid has been killed but the palace guards have dealt with this matter by sealing the King's chambers and taking the body away to the morgue. I can show you the way there, my Lord, if you're unfamiliar with the Castle?"
She gave a smile. Sweet - almost too much so.
She was trying so desperately to put on a pretty show but inside, she was rattled; she hadn't seen Carmen in the room, which meant that wretched Princess could be sticking her nose in unwanted places. Her time might be running out.
((This thread is closed. But the Kingdom of Ashes RP group is still active. You can find us located at https://www.rprepository.com/g/KingdomOfTheAshes 
))
))
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