Chapter 3
Bristol had not gone far when he heard the sound of pursuing hooves. He pulled up his mare and drew his sword. The canter slowed to a walk and the rider came into view. Bristol put up his sword as he recognized Pallin. Bristol gasped, “you startled me. What are you doing out here at this time of night?”
“I could ask the same of you,” said Pallin with a worried grin, “what are you and Tristan up to?”
“He just ‘murdered’ me,” said Bristol with a grin, “have you never talked to a dead man before? This character he is currently traveling with belongs to the Brotherhood. Tristan hopes to find out more of what the man is up to, but he is afraid he will not live long enough to do so. Murdering me was his first real assignment.”
Pallin smiled, “at least he succeeded this time, he had his chance to kill me but I survived. Is there anything I can do to help with this precarious mission of his?”
“I do not know,” said Bristol, “we should both go before we are seen. I am supposed to be dead. Farewell!” The mare took off at a gallop and quickly disappeared into the darkness. Pallin was left alone, wondering what to do next.
The next morning it was discovered that Bristol had disappeared in the night. Trap assumed his duties immediately and no one noticed the switch. It was not as if either of them would do anything important as a mere advisor to the King. Advisors were kept around simply to mollify the various countries or organizations who sent them, and perhaps to offer a bit of distraction whenever all else became dull. In reality, Arca was a very dull country to rule. It was a prosperous manufacturing city and trade flourished. The people were quiet, obeyed the laws, and paid their taxes. The nobles and merchants oversaw much of the day-to-day running of things and no country currently threatened war. All in all, it was a rather uneventful time to be King of Arca. Thus, most of the King’s time could be spent in leisure and recreation. He frequently went hunting, held balls and jousts, and invited artists, musicians, and storytellers from all corners of the world to amaze and thrill the court. Tristan wondered what Trap’s plans were for such a leisurely kingdom.
The morning after Bristol disappeared Trap said, “you have done well with your first task. I think I can trust you with a bit more of my plan. My assignment or perhaps I should say our assignment, is to maintain the level of philosophical nonsense currently afflicting Arca and to use this city to spread such confusion across the world. Our masters thrive in confusion and chaos. We tried covertly to overthrow various thrones, but were discovered. This plan is much more subtle and may take decades to come to fruition, but it will be that much harder to stop. The strength of the Brethren is in their concise definition of the Truth. We are to offer many alternatives to their truth. If there are enough interesting or semi-realistic ‘truths’ out there, it will make the Brethren’s message that much harder to hear and believe. Agents are being sent throughout the world to ensure that such ‘truths’ are spread everywhere, but it may take generations to effectively destroy the Brethren through attrition. Our masters have waited millennia for their chance to conquer the entire world and they are willing to wait as long as it takes. This method is much harder to implement and measure progress with, but if we succeed, no one will take the Brethren seriously and their doom will be assured. Then there will be little if any impedance to our masters’ conquest. I will stay in the palace to make sure our plans are running smoothly in this epicenter of confusion; you will travel throughout the countryside to observe how well things are proceeding there. Once Arca is firmly in the grip of nonsense, we can further spread confusion throughout the world.”
It all seemed very vague and foggy to Tristan but the Brotherhood did have a point. If the people could not unite behind a common idea, be it a country or a creed, then they would be that much easier to split apart and destroy. Tristan feared evil was brewing beyond the bounds of civilization or perhaps within, just waiting its chance to cover all the world in darkness and confusion. Once truth vanished and everything became relative, no one would care about anything above their own wants and needs. With so many voices proclaiming ‘truth,’ eventually everyone would stop listening and just do what they felt was best for themselves. It was vague, but over time it could do much more damage than conquering a kingdom or two might have done. Tristan wondered how to stop the onslaught. War and death often reminded one of things like love and life. It was hard to remain relativistic when confronted with violence and pain and death. Peace, comfort, and idle thoughts easily breed indifference and apathy. Kingdoms could be conquered without the shedding of blood! No wonder they wished to keep any necessary violence quiet; violence would rouse the people from their indolence. He did like the idea of leaving Trap’s company for a time to make a tour of the outlying villages and towns, but he did not like leaving the man unattended in the same palace as his wife. He had little choice if he wished to find out more about this sinister Brotherhood; he only hoped he would have time to speak with Arora before he left.
Tristan and Trap attended the morning court together. As usual, nothing of interest occurred. As the group broke up for the midday meal, Tristan found himself seated next to his wife. “Welcome to Arca,” said she, “do you plan to stay long?”
“I believe I will be in and out,” said he, “I do not yet know what my duties will entail.”
“It is lovely weather for travel,” said she with an amused smile.
“Yes,” said Tristan, “but there are many dangers upon the road. Some dangers even lurk within protective walls.”
“I believe you are correct,” said she, “we must be careful wherever we tread.”
“I quite agree,” said Tristan. They said nothing more to each other and attended to their food.
Trap found Tristan after the meal, “what are your thoughts on the singer?”
“She is very pretty and sings beautifully,” said Tristan, “but I fear we did not find much to discuss over lunch. Perhaps she is not a very skilled conversationalist?”
“A pity,” said Trap, “I had hoped she was at least as intelligent as she is beautiful. I do enjoy an intelligent woman, perhaps I must look elsewhere.” Tristan pitied any woman that caught Trap’s eye. “You are leaving tomorrow for Middlebeck,” Trap continued, “from there make your way throughout the villages and towns in the Eastern part of the country. I want to know how befuddled those in the outlying villages are; those in the city are coming along nicely. Report back to me within two weeks.” Tristan nodded his agreement and went to pack for his journey.
The next morning before dawn, he was in the stable saddling Taragon. He rode slowly out of the city and glanced back longingly at the palace where his wife slept. He hoped she would not catch Trap’s eye again. As he stood in the middle of the road heading East looking back towards the city, Tristan saw a rider approaching from the direction he had just come. He waited patiently as the rider approached; it was Pallin. “Where are you going?” asked the boy.
“I have been told to tour the Eastern towns and villages and assess their level of ‘confusion’ and the progress of the Brotherhood’s current schemes. I will be gone for two weeks,” finished Tristan.
“I met Bristol in the woods the other day and he told me about your predicament. I will keep an eye on Trap and protect Arora as best I can,” said Pallin. Tristan nodded his thanks; his heart would rest easier knowing Arora was not alone with Trap about the palace. Pallin continued, “I think I can take Bristol’s place as advisor to the King for the Brethren.”
“The King is not going to care one way or the other,” said Tristan with pathetic attempt at a smile, “but it would get you access to the court. Just be careful not to upset Trap too much or you may be his next target; he is not so compassionate a killer as I.” He continued, “how go things in the city?”
Pallin said, “things are very tedious. Everyone talks at once and no one s
ays anything of substance. I wish I could pack them all off to Astoria for a week for a good dose of reality.”
“I understand,” said Tristan, “the court is even worse! May the Master ride with you.” He smiled broadly at the young man and cantered off, his heart a little lighter. Pallin stared after him, wondering what would come of this strange adventure.
Pallin presented himself to the court and was apathetically accepted to fill one half of Bristol’s former office. Trap was not happy at the turn of events, but the man was quiet and did not seem to unduly influence anyone so he let the matter rest, at least for now. Perhaps when Tristan returned he would give him another chance at the man. Arora did not show it, but was pleased to have a friendly sword nearby. She did not like Tristan’s new acquaintance in the least. He often tried to chat with her during idle moments at court, but she feigned ignorance, hoping he would take her for a halfwit and leave her alone. He did not take the message. Pallin paid her some attention, but not enough to cause controversy. He was a welcome change from the idle prattle of the nobles and the coldness of Trap. The whole situation was wearying for everyone involved. How did people live like this?
Tristan made good time on his tour of Eastern of Arca. Middlebeck was a prosperous town on the coast of the Eastern sea. He stopped at many inns and talked to anyone along the road who would listen and answer his questions. The further East he went, the more grounded and receptive people were. The closer to Arca, the less thoughtful and more vociferous people became. Throughout his journey, he met a variety of people traveling about and spreading various messages. There were current and former members of the Order that told any number of nebulous tales about their view on reality. He also saw a few sinister characters that he thought must be associated with the Brotherhood. The more confusing and far more numerous traveling raconteurs he encountered claimed to be graduates or students of the University. When asked what exactly the University was they became very defensive and stuffy, claiming it was a legitimate institution and he had no right to question it. He was not trying to question its validity, he was simply trying to clarify what exactly the University was.
He changed tactics and feigned interest as a potential student, saying he had heard much about the institution and wished to know more. This encouraged and excited the alumni and current students, and they happily answered any questions he asked. It seemed the University was founded only a few years ago, in the neighboring country of Syre by a wealthy philosopher to promulgate the collection and dispersal of knowledge. Students could attend at no cost to themselves and part of their assignment was to go forth and spread whatever knowledge they had acquired during their short stay at the institution. Once they completed a certain number of such journeys and written a sizable document about something of interest only to themselves, they were allowed to call themselves Scholars. Many journeyed about spreading their ‘wisdom’ or sought positions as advisors or teachers. It was a perfect plan to disseminate faulty logic and flawed philosophy. No wonder the people of Arca were unwilling to listen to anymore ‘preaching!’ Arca seemed to be the favorite destination for these would-be scholars. Strangely, or not so strangely, none of the Scholars or students ever said anything that ever agreed with what anyone else said even though they were from the same school. Whatever they thought they were learning was not of much academic value, but was highly effective at confusing and distorting the Truth. The more sinister characters he had observed seemed well pleased with the results. Trap would be happy.
By the end of his two-week stint in the East, Tristan was ready to go home, even home to Trap. He had heard enough nonsense to last a lifetime, even a lifetime of several centuries. Right on time, he reported to Trap. “Very good,” said he, “it seems our little experiment with the University is a success.”
“Our experiment?” asked Tristan.
“Yes,” said Trap, “members of the Brotherhood have convinced various generous personages to donate to this institution in exchange for a professorship. They are allowed to teach whatever they want and students are encouraged to develop their own truths. It seems to be working very well. We are producing a crop of poorly educated scholars eager to spread their own variant of truth as far and wide as possible. The more people who hear their own ideas, the more important and well-known they become. Pride begets pride and ignorance begets ignorance. It is beautiful! We have agents in the field overseeing the students’ progress locally, I am sure you noticed a few of them.”
Tristan nodded, “I also saw several members of the Order going about proclaiming gibberish. Do you have agents in the Order as well?”
“The Order wants to expand its educational opportunities,” said Trap, “they have reached out not only to the Brethren, but now to the University as well. If this succeeds locally, within a decade we hope to have a major University in every civilized country.” Tristan could not imagine what hordes of wandering scholars would do to local economies. The young men who should be plowing fields, building houses, defending their countries, and fathering children would instead become part of a useless and clueless army roaming aimlessly about the world giving nothing back to society but vacuous words. It was a brilliantly evil plot.
“I have a great interest in this singer,” said Trap, “purely recreational of course, but I can never get anywhere near her without our friend from Darcy’s Spring getting in the way. I think it would be amusing if you challenged him to a duel for the honor of the lady.”
“Me?” said Tristan.
“Is there anyone else here?” snapped Trap, “yes, you. I am an official advisor to the King, I cannot go about starting duels; I might get hurt. Besides, just think of it as your chance to correct your gaffe when first you tried to kill the man.”
“I cannot start a duel with one of the Brethren!” said Tristan, “I will end up dead; the man is a trained warrior. Besides, can he accept a duel if he is bound by this Oath of his?”
“If he feels it is in defense of the innocent, I am sure he will oblige you,” said Trap, “I would hate to see you die when you have been so useful, but it is a risk I am willing to take. If you survive, I think you may be ready to take your first step of initiation into the Brotherhood.”
“First step?” asked Tristan.
“Yes,” said Trap with a cold smile, “so far you have been a freeloader with no real commitments. If you survive, you will be required to take an oath of service to my masters. Or I will kill you myself.”
“I will see what I can arrange,” said Tristan glumly.
“Tomorrow will do for this little entertainment,” said Trap. Tristan left the room to find a secluded place to think. Trap indifferently watched him go. Tristan was useful, but could be replaced. This would be entertaining no matter how it ended.
The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything Page 21