by Bill Ricardi
Although there were hints of opulence here and there, the royal family had chosen not to flaunt their undeniable wealth. Paintings of past kings and queens rested upon the walls, held snugly in gold gilt frames. Wrought iron crystal chandeliers illuminated the main chamber, aided by the occasional torch held in silver wall sconces. A red pile-knotted carpet stretched from the entry doors all the way to the steps of the stately metallic thrones.
Today was a ‘closed session’ of the royal court, meaning only pre-approved individuals could be in attendance. Normally there would be a screening room to see if petitioner concerns were worthy of royal attention, an open gallery where select people could watch but not participate, a closed gallery where worthy petitioners waited to be heard, and a royal gallery where those of noble blood could sit, watch, and participate if they so choose.
However in a closed session, there was only a royal gallery with perhaps a dozen nobles in attendance, and a short queue of officials and ambassadors waiting for their time in front of the royal family. Upon seeing us enter, a white-wigged man sitting upon the large central throne of steel held up one hand. The merchant who had been speaking shut up immediately.
“Seal the room behind our honored guests please? There will be a pause in entry until after their issues have been addressed.” said the king.
King Wensley Rosen was not as old as his powdered wig might indicate. In his mid thirties, the man’s voice was robust, powerful. He seemed confident, hale, and in his prime. Queen Ginger Rosen, sitting on a smaller throne at her husband’s left side, glanced up when that order was issued. A brilliant smile was aimed in our direction, brief but sincere. The powdered wig on her head did nothing to hide her own youth, which was also betrayed by the young son and daughter playing at her feet.
The merchant continued his petition as the doors behind us were chained. We were offered refreshments. In days past it might have been whole fruit from the gardens, but not even royalty was spared from the changes in climate. Instead, chilled pear juice and honey roasted cashew nuts were the snacks of choice. We accepted of course; it’s not a good idea to reject royal hospitality even so soon after breakfast.
In about half an hour, the last petitioner ahead of us was finishing up. She was asking for additional patrols on the northern roads to reduce incidents of highway robbery. The matter was approved for further study and handed off to the finance minister to work out a budget proposal.
Our group stepped forward when the petitioning area was vacated. The other four knelt on one knee before the royal family. I caught on quickly and was only a split second behind the rest of the group. Only the Queen seemed to notice, flickering her amber eyes towards me. A small, secret smile that conveyed both amusement and reassurance was sent my way. I immediately felt more relaxed.
The King stood and proclaimed, “Rise, please, friends. Ladies and gentlemen of the Court, if it pleases you as much as it pleases us, heartily greet the representatives of the Arcane University.” As we stood, there was a healthy amount of applause given such a small audience.
King Wensley waited for the clapping to die down, and then he said, “Sadly the matters about to be discussed are not for the whole Court. I would ask that the Security Council members remain. Would everyone else proceed to the foyer. Today I believe that we have Sara Turu, court cellist, waiting to entertain you during this pause in normal proceedings.”
As the nobility and extra staff filed out, the royal children, probably aged about four years for the girl and five for the boy, squealed and ran over to Ames. They practically climbed all over the were-cat. The bewildered rogue was gently tugged over to sit on the step just below the Queen’s throne. All this amidst comments and questions like: “Beautiful.” “So soft!” “Do you like horses?” “Pretty tail!”
Queen Ginger murmured, amused, “Amanda, Bo. This is our esteemed guest, Ames. Ames, these are the rather outgoing royal children. I hope you’ll pardon them, we don’t see many were-cats this far south. May I invite you to tea so that you can be properly acquainted with them, afterwards?”
Amidst face and ears being gently stroked, Ames rumbled, “Of course your highness.”
“Thank you. Children, our guest is joining us for tea in a while, will you run and tell the steward?”
The lad and lass cheered, and after sneaking in a couple more pets on the ‘big kitty’, they raced out of the throne room. The doors were closed behind the departing children. Ames quickly hopped up and rejoined the rest of us.
The King smiled at us. “Well. Always an adventure, isn’t it?” We all had a chuckle. Then the monarch gestured at each of the two remaining nobles standing in the royal gallery as they were announced. “Allow me to introduce General Stanish Coleton, head of army intelligence.”
Stanish was a silver haired gent, but his fine white silk shirt did very little to hide corded muscles that were still formidable after half a century. He wore leathers similar to what Ames wore for adventuring, preferring high mobility over the raw protection of metal armors. On his belt hung a longsword and a shortsword. Even in the bright light of the throne room, the rubies inlaid upon their hilts glowed with a magical aura. I could already see the man dual wielding those two fine weapons in my mind. In that mental scenario, I was on his side, of course.
“And allow me to introduce Duke Marley Harrington, personal advisor to the royal family.”
Duke Harrington wore a neutral expression throughout his introduction. Although he looked to be in his mid forties, certain aspects of the Duke’s countenance seemed almost youthful. His curly brown hair looked like it was in need of a trim. His blue eyes were sharp and attentive. But clearly the man had been in some kind of accident, or had been injured one or more times. His left arm was missing at shoulder. Patches of his skin looked like they suffered from burns at some point. When I walked in, I had also noticed a scar that ran down the back of his neck. He was dressed entirely in gold and crimson, clothes doubtlessly custom tailored for his disability.
“As I noted to your Headmaster, the Duke will be your liaison in this matter. He is up to date with every detail of the case. Marley, would you present the facts of the incident?”
All eyes turned towards the Duke, situated to our right.
“Thank you Your Highness.” said Duke Harrington, each word careful, almost over-pronounced. “Welcome representatives of the lauded Arcane University. Exactly twelve nights ago, we uncovered a spy in our midst. He was attempting to recruit one of our dungeon laborers into a plot that, apparently, involved the partial or complete destruction of this palace.” He paused for effect, then resumed. “If this had been any normal man, it would have ended there. Madness and delusions of grandeur have claimed more than one soul after all. However. This man was using illusions to remain hidden, and had a rather high priced cover. He was posing as visiting nobility… lifestyle included. Given the mystical nature of this, we contacted your people. And here we are.”
Rick started the questioning, “You said illusions. They were detected at some point?”
The Duke shrugged. “He attempted to use them in the course of being discovered and trying to escape. Such as Invisibility. And such as an illusionary wall that one could simply walk through. He was unsuccessful in the end.”
I asked, “Why recruit a dungeon worker?”
Duke Harrington turned his gaze to me, sharply. He paused a moment, then admitted, “We don’t know. Our theory is that he was planning to free one of our more dangerous prisoners. He would have several to choose from that share his wish, assuming that he ultimately desired the downfall of the royal family.”
Ames gave a little head tilt. “When can we see him?”
“You cannot. He died during interrogation two days ago. I assure you, he was quite healthy when the session started, and nothing was done to him beyond mental tactics and mild irritation. Suddenly, mid question, he was gone. The court surgeon is trying to discover why, but having no luck.”
We looke
d at each other. Then Rick stated, “Not much to go on.”
The Duke shrugged. “Indeed.”
Stanish piped in, his somewhat breathy voice almost sliding over the silence in the room, “I’ll make all of my people available to you as you require. All of the security reports from the last few months will be at your command. Rest assured, you have our support.”
King Wensley nodded. “Thank you gentlemen.” Then he addressed the group. “We hope that your magical talents can aid this investigation, but we understand if there are simply too few clues. Paladin McGoldberg, I believe you said you’re staying at the Drowsy Dragon? Guest quarters will also be made available to you here, in the palace. The southwest tower, level four will house your entire group in comfort, should you require. It will not be assigned to anyone else for the duration of your investigation. Use the area as you see fit.”
Toby bowed to the King. “Thank you your highness. It will be most useful as a staging and rest area.”
The Queen called over, “Dear Ames, would you please escort me to tea?”
The feline handed their backpack to Toby, and then padded over to Queen Ginger. The human looped her arm through Ames’, as in if being escorted to a formal dance. My favorite were-cat shot a brief look over their shoulder, as in if begging me for help. I just smiled, broadly. The two walked out of the room, using the same exit as the children had used minutes before. Two well armed guards followed.
King Wensley smiled at the four of us remaining. “We’ll leave you to it then. Thank you, one and all.” He called out, “We shall resume in ten minutes, please inform the court.”
The side doors were opened, the rear doors unchained, and cello music flooded in from the foyer. The four of us bowed, and took our leave.
The southwest tower was actually quite a walk from the center of the palace. Eight minutes of hallways and stairs later, and we were in the privacy of our own chambers. It was an open barracks complete with kitchen and pantry, taking up the entirety of the tower floor. The area was functional, but not fancy. The pantry had been stocked with bread, hard cheese, and a few jars of preserved peaches in syrup. There were twelve single beds and as many footlockers. Although not strictly palatial, one could do much worse.
We split up and blanketed every room with Detect Magic. There were no hits other than the items in our possession that we knew to be magical. Toby searched for secret and trap doors, but found nothing.
The first thing I did after the sweep was turn to Will. “Okay. Spill.”
The small human looked surprised. “What? How did you know?”
I snorted. “Because you kept your mouth shut. Since when does that happen? What did you see?”
The mage huffed, but admitted, “I didn’t see anything as such, but something doesn’t add up. If something they were doing in interrogation, fairly non-violent by the sounds of it, killed this spy… why did it take ten days? So he keels over two days ago… likely just after our Headmaster proposed her plan. Why, natural causes? No way.”
Toby considered the options, pacing up and down the long aisle between the rows of beds. “Poisoned? Maybe magically assassinated?”
Rick noted, grimly, “If other Illusionists were involved, there’s a powerful spell called The Phantom Killer. It would leave no marks. Only the victim would have seen it. He would have had to willingly believe in it given his situation, but if he wanted to die before he broke...”
That grim thought hung in the air for quite a while.
We unpacked our own things and started to get organized. I was unpacking for Ames in the were-cat’s absence, when the door opened.
I called over, “We think we might have some ideas.”
“So do we.” was the reply.
Ames entered, but was followed by a slim, cloaked figure. Only when she threw off her hood did we all realize we were standing in the presence of royalty.
There was a chorus of bowing, kneeling, and recitations of ‘Your Majesty’. But the Queen was having none of it.
“No, no, stop. Y’all don’t hafta do that now, there isn’t time. Call me Ginger, and get me some o’ them peaches and a fork.”
The jarring country inflection of Her Royal Highness was quite a shock. But I gathered my wits and headed out to the kitchen. Everyone followed, and planted themselves in chairs around the huge wooden table. I put the requested items in front of our royal visitor.
Ginger said, “I wanna thank Ames here fer being my cover. Th’ kids do like you sugar, and I hope ya liked the tea. But I gotta tell y’all, I think Harrington is full o’ sheep crap.” She grabbed the jar, popped it open, and speared one of the sweet peach chunks with a fork before devouring it.
Toby cleared his throat, “Your Hi… Ginger. You think we’re being lied to?”
The royal ragamuffin shrugged. “Can’t rightly say lyin’. Maybe just hiding the whole truth. Either way, he isn’t the only spy in town. Got me my own people, and had him followed. Most of it was borin’, but last week he ended up meeting with th’ Bishop of Koroth. Never heard of his family havin’ ties there.”
Ames didn’t get the reference. “Koroth?” I shook my head, not knowing either.
Will fielded that one, “Koroth the Broker is the demon who negotiated The Great Wager amongst the gods, and the architect of the contract banning angels and demons from setting foot on Panos.”
Rick asked Ginger, “What would his motive be?”
The Queen gestured around with a fork dripping with syrup. “Everything. Enough o’ the royal family dies, his line takes over. Harrington was heir to th’ biggest fiefdom in the kingdom when his folks died. Reckon we might be next.”
I considered. “We’re supposed to report to him.”
Ginger shook her head, strawberry blond curls bouncing around. She downed another peach slice, then tapped her fork on the edge of the open jar. “Y’all now report ta me. You tell that snake a whole lotta nothin’. No real progress, still fleshing out leads. I’ll square it with my girl Hemi, don’t worry.”
We had a brief discussion as to our next move, but before we came to a decision, the Queen stood up. She handed Will her fork and then pulled up her hood again.
“I gotta get back. Keep me informed.”
“Ginger.” I called.
“Yeah?”
“Your formal accent is amazing.”
She laughed. “Ya know honey. I was gonna say the same thing to you.”
And with that, the most powerful woman in the land left, breath smelling of preserved peaches.
“Alright.” I said. “The Temple of Koroth is our next stop. But we need to put on a good show for the royal court. Suggestions?”
Rick said, “The dungeon is an easy way to kill a day’s worth of investigation. Look into why the worker was approached. And at the same time examine the interrogation room.”
Toby chimed in, “Koroth demands midnight services during the week, so assuming this temple follows the same traditions as others I’ve seen, we’ll be able to say we’re going back to the Drowsy Dragon before slipping out to attend.”
Ames had been murmuring to Will. The small human nodded to the feline, then said aloud. “And we’ll likely be followed. I’ll take care of obfuscating us magically, and Ames can cover our physical traces.”
I was satisfied with the details. “Good. Toby will handle explaining our fake plan to them. Since we’re actually going to investigate the dungeon, he won’t be lying. We will go back to the Dragon first to wait for an hour and make sure we weren’t followed, so again, no lying there. The three arcane casters will get some rest, and prepare for the worst.”
After our midday spell memorization, we requested access to the dungeon. General Coleton assigned a pair of his men to hold torches, answer questions, and watch our backs as we examined the palace’s depths. Local guides were always welcome.
It was an afternoon of slow discovery. The dungeons had no obvious escape route, no secret passages. There were only tiny grates t
hat led to the sewer, and each was bolted down tightly. If the intention was to free one or more prisoners, they would need to travel back up the heavily guarded stairway. The interrogation room was a dead end as well. There was no magical item or mystical presence that would enhance the stress levels of the captured spy to the point of a heart attack. We headed back to our private tower floor to ‘discuss the results’.
After a quick sweep with Detect Magic to make sure that no mystical forces were listening, I put our plans into motion. “Let’s pack everything up and take it all with us. We don’t know what would be tampered with. Toby, you can make the report to the Duke on the way out.”
While the minotaur set up our entirely truthful smokescreen, we gathered at the palace’s main exit. Once Toby was finished, the five of us headed back to the inn. Dinner was had, then the surveillance started. We had picked up a tail. After an hour of observing the spy, we estimated that he was working alone.
Will asked me, “What do we want to do about him?”
I considered. “Ames. Scare the piss out of him.”
I never got the exact details, but twenty minutes later, our feline companion returned. The were-cat was grinning toothily. “He won’t be back tonight.” Ames assured us.
At a quarter past 11, we set out towards the western part of the city, keeping to the back alleys. All of us were sporting long black cloaks to help us blend in when we reached our destination. They would also help with the ruse that we had planned in advance to avoid being followed.
As the five of us turned a corner, Rick quickly cast a simple spell by the name of Audible Illusion. It created a phantom sound that traveled in any direction of the caster’s choosing. In this case, the sound of our party walking and chattering with each other was sent down the opposite alley. As quickly and quietly as we could, we weaved down two tight bends in rapid succession. Ten minutes later, Will cast the same spell and we did it all over again in a different alley. If we were being followed before, it was far less likely now.