Next up was Finn Wessel. He approached the podium with the sway and swagger of someone consumed and saturated with overconfidence.
“Hello everybody,” he began. Adelaide felt goose bumps spread across her skin at the heavy, seductive tone of his voice. “How is everyone doing today? I mean, how could anyone in this town be anything short of wonderful? Am I right, Mr. Mayor? Am I right? And may I ask, have you been working out?”
Mayor Hare let forth his merriest laugh yet. Many people in the crowd chimed in. Throughout the course of his speech, Finn continued to lay joke after joke on his audience, fully grabbing their attention and causing riffs of uncontrollable mirth from row to row. Adelaide herself started shaking her head in delighted guffaw as he bantered on. He even rested his eyes on her for a brief second and winked before giving his closing remarks. The crowd gave him a standing ovation as he thanked them all and returned to his seat.
“The time has come, folks, to hear from our final nominee,” Mayor Hare heartily announced . “His family is well known throughout our little village for their generosity and knack for wholesome business.”
Adelaide rolled her eyes. Mayor Hare had clearly neglected to investigate the rumors circulating the Kings. It was just as possible that he was already more than aware of their activities. She shuddered as she pondered the possibility that Raoul’s father might have secured this nomination with a sizable donation to Hare’s private funds.
“Now, without further delay,” the mayor continued. “Here is the one and only, Raoul King Jr!” Adelaide watched the sullen nominee drag his feet across the wooden boards as he made his way over to the podium, receiving an unwanted slap on the back from Mayor Hare along the way. The heir to the King fortune gave a lazy wave towards the audience, frequently glancing down at his newly polished shoes. A moment of awkward silence followed. Mayor Hare cleared his throat, and several members of the crowd shifted in their chairs.
“Well,” Raoul b egan, glancing out at the uninterested faces before him. “I, uh…I suppose…just vote for me… I guess. Thanks.” H e gave an exaggerated bow and returned to his seat as the crowd offer him a half hearted round of applause.
“What sort of rot is this?” Adelaide murmured, shaking her head. “He shouldn’t even be up there.” “Come on, c ut him some slack,” Clayton whispered, nudging her shoulder. “He’s a sad fellow and not well-liked. Let him have his few minutes of power.”
Adelaide shot her pleasant companion a look of unflattering contempt as Mayor Hare once again took his place before the crowd.
“Well…w as that not just the best group of nominee speeches?” he asked. “I think so. I certainly do. Now, it is time for moment we have all been waiting so patiently for: the vote tally.”
Each member of the audience arose from their chairs. A pair of designated volunteers walked from row to row, handing out small slips of paper and pencils. All the citizens had to do was scribble down the name of their preferred candidate and fold it up to conceal their choice. With just three candidates, the votes were quickly collected back and counted by Mayor Hare. He finally approached the podium and beamed his biggest smile.
“There might be something seriously wrong with that guy,” Clayton whispered with a chuckle.
Adelaide grunted and pretended to gaze around at the audience.
“Wait a minute! Why am I doing this?” she thought. “Why do I even care?”
Mayor Hare interrupted her train of thought. “ The votes, ladies and gentlemen, are in,” he exclaimed. “The numbers are solid and the candidates well honored, I’d say. Now please, if all of you excellent people would stand, I will read aloud the results.”
The nominees stood and took a step forward as Hare glanced down at the tally. Raoul smirked pompously at the audience. Mimi stood quietly and contently with a smile on her face. Finn waved his hand calmly with confidence. Adelaide found herself picturing for a moment what it would be like to invite him back to her room after all this was over….and then…and then…
“Outstanding,” Hare declared. “These are simply outstanding results. Two nominees scored over ninety percent of the votes, a very close race indeed. The winner of this year’s election and the next addition to our list of Guild members is….”
He took a second to compose himself. All his hopping about and shouting had rendered him short of breath. Finally, he held the slip of paper high in the air and exclaimed:
“Finn Wessel!”
CHAPTER THREE
The audience clapped their hands and cheered. A sharp, flirty whistle escaped Adelaide’s lips. Her face burned bright red as Finn glanced down at her, his eyes full of gratitude and peaked interest. Mayor Hare ushered him down into the crowd to receive hearty handshakes and compliments from the villagers. Mimi laughed and joined him, receiving hugs from several loyal supporters who consoled her on her unfortunate defeat. Raoul stormed off in a fit with his fists tightly clenched. The squeaking noise from his latex gloves lessened as Adelaide watched him disappear behind the stage and out of sight.
It was tradition each year for the elected winner to lead the villagers down the streets of Havendale to the Wintersbane celebration. Clusters of ecstatic people were soon following Finn as he walked side by side with Mayor Hare. Songs and ballads concerning daring adventures and rowdy odysseys were boisterously chanted. The whole of Havendale was alive with uncontained happiness. Before long, the front entrance to the village came into view and the entourage passed gleefully through the gate.
Not far ahead, there stood a field of untended grass and freshly bloomed daisies. Directly in the center stood a tall, sloping hill that reached up against the towering tree trunks of the woods behind it. According to legend, the “Feasting Hill”, as it was locally known, was where the founders of Havendale had first viewed the land upon which to build. In accordance with tradition, any event of notable significance was hosted there, from weddings and holidays to funerals and birthdays. Gable’s last birthday, alone, had prompted a wild extravaganza full of raucous fireworks and marvelous party-games, not to mention a slew of his favorite desserts. These had included chilled pudding, strawberry ice cream, and moist, rich chocolate cake. An event like Wintersbane warranted spirits of a more staggering nature.
Several villagers had already broken company from the procession to carry bountiful trays heaped with assorted delicacies out towards it. The crowd quickly found their places along the long, adorned tables and took their seats, eager to begin the festivities. Mayor Hare ushered the Guild of Promise to the head table with one hand and, with the other, signaled the attention of everyone else as the food was dispensed from table to table.
From her seat with the Guild, Adelaide could see her family getting comfortable at a nearby table. Gable was bouncing excitedly in his chair next to Hattie, hungrily eying the feast before him. Ronan was somewhere nearby, most likely snatching a seat next to Jolene Ingram. Everyone was growing antsy and rapidly talking in fevered tones. The celebration was about to commence.
Adelaide fervently hoped Finn Wessel would end up beside her. Perhaps the two of them could play finger-tag underneath the table cloth. She was disappointed, however, to see him placed seven chairs down in the place of honor next to the ever jolly Horatio Hare. A loud groan escaped her lips as Clayton Hogg seat himself directly across from her. She tried to ignore his colorful smile and pretended not to notice him waving in her direction. He was becoming more irritating to her by the second with his tranquil demeanor. She was happy to be distracted when Mayor Hare finally leapt to his feet, causing quite a loud commotion as he did so.
“Now that we are all gathered together in good company,” he laughed. “I say to you all…let the feasting commence.” There was steak, both rare and well-done, peppered and broiled, as well as tenderized lamb chops, a large tray of honey glazed ham, several baskets of breaded chicken legs, grilled venison with lemon juice, barbecued meatballs glazed in honey, chopped liver, shrimp and salmon bisque, tomato and bacon
salad, and a dozen different forms of sliced lunch meats, ranging from bologna to pastrami. The bread table had a marvelous collection of baguettes, biscuits, and assorted bagels and muffins. Pastries, pies, puddings, and crèmes lined each row of the dessert tables, and all around the hill were wide stands covered with exotic fruits and homegrown vegetables. Two dozen wooden barrels had been rolled up the hill as well, their contents consisting of frothy Honeydrop Beer, perfectly aged Tart Wine, creamy Cinnamon Cider, and chilled creek water with half-sliced lemons and limes tossed in to sweeten the flavor.
No band had been hired to provide music for the party. In a village like Havendale, everyone had a masterful skill that contributed to some specific situation, including music. A couple Guild members could play an excellent fiddle. A mother of a previous nominee performed a series of jigs on her violin. Other townsfolk made drums out of pots and pans, while several more kept the beat with spoons, forks and ladles on their tables. In no time at all, there was merry music and dancing that resounded beyond the hill and over the walls and roofs of Havendale, carrying on across the farmland and bounteous landscape.
By the late afternoon , everyone’s appetites were thoroughly satisfied. Whoever wasn’t falling to their knees due to overindulgence of wine and freshly brewed beer was parading around the tables to fervent Havendale tunes. Adelaide danced with her brothers, Mayor Hare, a short freckled lad named Alec Tarr, and even secured several livelier numbers with Finn Wessel. More than once, she had cast her eyes towards Clayton Hogg, expecting to catch him checking her out. She figured he was thinking long and hard about how best to obtain a dance from her, perhaps a slow one, performed for all the romantics and loving sweethearts in the village. Instead, she saw him being cuddled on a bench by Mimi Varrow. She was attempting to inch her arm around his shoulder and whisper something seductive in his ear. Though his interest seemed minimal, Clayton was not openly rebuking her. The very sight gave Adelaide aggressive stomach cramps.
“ Honestly, the nerve of him,” she thought. “He doesn’t even have to flirt with girls for rotting out loud. Well, what does it matter to me anyhow? So what if he wants to be a total rotter? What do I care? Where is Finn?
She saw the admirable Guild winner standing by himself across the party. His right hand was clawing at some food still stuck in his teeth while his left tightly clasped a partially full clay goblet. His stance was stoic and still, as if someone were sketching him nearby on a modest canvas. The expression on his face, however, was one of drunken stupor. From what Adelaide could recall, he hadn’t had an empty glass since the beginning of the party. This failed to sway her as she moistened her lips and straightened her dress. Her body trembled as she noticed his eyes glancing invitingly towards her. Now was the time to move in, while everyone else on the hill was occupied. Adelaide chuckled quietly as she pictured her and Finn waltzing down the streets of Havendale, their arms locked and their faces mere inches apart. The image alone would drive her mother to winked hysterics. She started making her way towards where he stood, random thoughts of unquenchable passion stealing across her mind.
Their connection was abruptly interrupted by a distant sound. Adelaide turned towards it, straining her gaze outward down the winding road that led to Havendale from along the edge of the Wallowing Woods. The music and dancing stopped around her as, one by one, the people of Havendale caught a glimpse of the approaching noise. There were horsemen, around fifty riders in all, moving swiftly towards the hill from the north. They grew larger and more formidable with each lengthy stride. Several citizens took a nervous step backwards as the band of mounted steeds nearly trampled them before finally coming to a halt at the edge of the party. The villagers whispered amongst themselves in open concern. Adelaide inched her way to the edge of the bewildered crowd of spectators for a better look. She could feel Gable clenching her hand behind her as she stared up nervously at the unexpected arrivals.
The riders were covered from neck to toe in scaly armor. Each suit reflected in the fading sunlight, giving their owners an unsettling desolate glimmer. Their heads were bald, except for sweaty bandages and bloodstained wraps. The horses they sat upon were wretched, hairless beasts, with blood-shot eyes and sunburned skin. Peering closer, Adelaidesaw that each animal’s teeth had been sawed down into miniscule, protruding fangs.
Mayor Hare was first to address the ominous new arrivals. He did so with the same friendly attitude he always used, moving slowly from rider to rider with his hand extended and waiting patiently for one of them to accept it.
“My, my, gentlemen,” he gleefully declared. “What…err…excellent animals you ride upon to our small and humble feast. We welcome all who desire to fill their stomachs and hear the sweet melody of music upon their weary ears. Please, rest your horses and enjoy some food while you regale us all with tales of your travels.”
After finding no one to accept his handshake, Hare retracted it and turned his attention to one particular rider. “Good sir, welcome to our little party. We do our best to accommodate any and all who enter the gates of Havendale, and entreat those to do to enjoy all our village has to offer.”
The rider nodded his head and cast a quick glance at the crowd. Adelaide felt as if he was counting them. She gulped uncomfortably as nefarious reasons why racked her brain. Even Hare seemed taken aback by it.
“If I may ask…good sir…what do you call yourself?” the mayor asked. “His name, you engorged buffoon, is Miltock,” another rider said. Hare turned to face the speaker, who dismounted his horse and stepped ahead of his companions. Adelaide noticed the icy, pale complexion of his skin, as if all bodily heat had seeped through his pores long ago. His lips were bloody and raw from being frequently gnawed upon, and ink-colored veins reached out across his entire face like some horrific tattoo. Adelaide peered forward as the unnatural image seemed to shrink for a moment and then grow back to its original size.
“Well, I….” Hare stammered. The fact that he had been insulted was slowly dawning on him.“I am pleased to make his err….his acquaintance. Yes I am. You….you are, sir?”
“The one you seek. My name is Huglund. I command this rabble in the name of Lord Tibris Tiberion.”
“Ah, I see, I see…..and who is that, sir?” A quiet murmur passed amongst the riders. Their eyes immediately focused on Hare, who started perspiring. “Who is he, you ask?” Huglund began. “ Why, he is the one who governs your lands, who provides security for all your families at his expense. He grants you the privilege of living as free citizens in his realm without heavy tax or political influence. It is by his guidance, that all in Amber reap the bountiful profits that accompany successful business. Without him, your pockets would not be overflowing with shine. That is who he is. I would think someone like that would be first on everyone’s mind now and again.”
The ever pleasant mayor of Havendale lost his nerve. He glanced back and forth from one rider to the next, blabbering on as he did so.
“We are….a peaceful a nd self-governed community, sir, I can promise you. We…We make our own laws and abide justly by them. I have always known that, err, that our province had its own protector, but surely you must be aware that we have never met the man, nor met anyone who serves him directly…until this moment, of course.”
Huglund sighed and shook his head. “The inappropriate manner in which you’ve acted here, tonight, is easily considered treason. I trust you can accept that. With that being said, our master and your lord is a justand forgiving man. I’m sure he would want me to allow this first time to pass as a warning in the understanding that there will never be a second.”
“Well,” Hare said nervously. “ I surely do apologize about my inexcusable behavior, sir, I do. We have lived on our own for so long out here in the country we have forgotten who keeps us safe from any surrounding dangers.”
“What dangers?” Gable whispered. “These rotters are the only dangerous thing I’ve ever seen around here.”
Adelaide quickly shushed
him.
“Well then,” said the mayor, composing himself. “What is it that I can do for you and your men, Mister Huglund?” “It’s Captain,” hissed Miltock.
“My apologies,” Hare resumed with a frantic salute. “How can we be of service, Mist…Captain?” Huglund looked over at Miltock, who pulled out a water stained scroll wrapped in red sash from the ragged satchel hanging from his saddle. He cautiously unrolled it before reading aloud its contents.
“By order of Tibris Tiberion, lord of Sanctumsea, protector of the Amber province, and successor to the revered John Cecil Rollins, the following letter has been approved:
All towns, cities, and villages within the boundaries of his lordship’s domain shall be subject to strict and thorough investigation concerning matters of highest treason. These matters include and are not limited to: 1) conspiracy to lead or partake in rebellion, 2) low regard for any law passed on his Lordship’s personal behalf, 3) use of unfriendly slander towards his Lordship, and lastly, 4) intent to do harm to his Lordship’s person. Those found guilty of such improper behavior will be labeled “Red Hands” and dealt with according to the rights of law. This investigation shall be received and assisted by every true and loyal citizen of Amber, no matter the cost or personal sacrifice. It will not be taken lightly, and will be overseen by an officer of noble birth and unquestionable loyalty. This officer is to be shown both respect and gratitude, and should never suffer a lack in generosity from those he encounters. Please, therefore, give credence to Captain Huglund, elected officer in the Tibris Guard, and personal ambassador to Lord Tiberion himself.
In accordance with the laws and support of fellow lords of Sanctumsea: -Lord Cassius of Daroon
-Lord Andromedes of Helite
-Lord Vaux of Falcas
Signed by: Lord Tibris Tiberion of Amber” As he finished, every Tibris Guard lowered his head in reverence. Miltock gently placed the script down in the edge of his saddle and looked to Huglund for further instruction.
The Acryptus Tree Page 3