A quartet of musicians played harmoniously to one side, their instruments sounding deep notes composed by musicians of the Grove. Acoustics accentuated their melodious compositions. Three enormous hearths located around the hall spat and crackled, fires blazing noisily. Braziers hanging from walls burnt leaves of lavender and peach that sent their heady aromas into the nostrils of Dagan’s guests.
A royal gathering assembled around King Dagan’s table. His Majesty sat at the head dressed in royal robes lined with gold pins and medallions, wearing a jewelled crown and diamond earrings. He clicked his fingers to one of a dozen servants standing behind at attention, waiting to fill glasses or fulfil any whim of those feasting at table.
“Tone down this peach flavour,” he ordered, “it’s interfering with the taste of pheasant on my palate.” Three servants immediately made their way to braziers, procured black gloves, and picked out dried peach cuttings.
Lady Dagan shook her head. “So fussy, Your Grace,” she said cheekily, nonchalantly gazing down her nose at a carcass of roast pork. A servant began to cut her a slice, but noticing her frown, doubled its width. Receiving no correction from her, the harried servant cut two, then three, then four thick chunks of ham and placed them on her ladyship’s already crammed plate.
To King Dagan’s right sat Lord Archdruid of Reswald, whose offices included Chief Magistrate of Reswald and Chief Advisor at His Majesty’s Court. His long white beard and flowing robes gave him a venerable appearance. A purple ivy emblem was emblazoned on his chest, yet he had consistently and vociferously denied any involvement with former rites of the Grove of Purple Ivy, claiming they had been outlawed. To his right sat Commander Flanders of the Royal Guard dressed in fancy regalia, complete with medals and epaulettes. To his right sat another leading lord of King Dagan’s court, Peer Pintosh.
Opposite these three men sat Aelred, Talarren and Lafarrhine’s ambassador to Reswald. Lady Dagan joined them, anxious to meet her husband’s illustrious guests, Aelred and Talarren.
Aelred dressed in his finest clothes, cutting a striking figure. Talarren dressed in his usual attire, for which he was greeted with contempt by guards and passing officials. The ambassador also dressed in his finery, as befits an ambassador of Lafarrhine.
To begin with they discussed weather, crops and the comparative merits of Reswald over Lafarrhine grapes, which Dagan boasted were superior. Talarren remembered that prior to dinner, the ambassador had reminded them that Dagan was utterly parochial and invariably boasted about Reswald and his own accomplishments at every opportunity. Conversation turned to current events.
In a conceited tone, as if his kingdom was responsible for bringing these reports to light, and as if Aelred and Talarren were unaware, King Dagan mentioned orc sightings in the western extremities of Albatross Mountains. He mentioned rumours of increased piracy along Galapagos Gulf, loudly condemning dwarven kingdoms for allowing such hideous creatures unfettered liberty, stating that such wickedness would never survive within Reswald’s borders.
He vociferously lamented the ongoing Mugar threat to both Central Kingdoms and Raysal-El-Hin, intimating he would be more proactive at defending their borders if he was in charge. His three visitors wisely held their tongues. These were ignorant boasts. Surely Dagan was not so stupid as to believe a tiny kingdom like Reswald could either negotiate or resist a two-timing tyrant like Tāhūbād? Unless, of course, Dagan contented himself with acting as a puppet like many Mugar fiefdoms, paying exorbitant taxes to Tāhūbād, fighting his battles and supplying him goods and slaves at his whim.
Every five minutes or so, Lady Dagan would add her two copper’s worth, which Talarren believed lowered the tone of their conversation even more than her braggart husband. Comments such as: “Reswald fashions are travelling up and down the Silk Road,” accompanied by a suggestive touch of her bosom while setting her eyes directly at Aelred produced an uneasy silence from those gathered at table. She followed up with comments such as: “Reswald women are most beautiful of all,” accompanied by a girlish giggle while gazing at Aelred.
“Of course, My Lady,” her husband said dismissively, “however let us continue with more important issues. Since my rule,” King Dagan claimed, “Reswald has never known such prosperity, thanks also to wise counsel and good management of our Druids,” Dagan added, nodding to his Chief Magistrate.
His Chief Magistrate, whose name still remained a mystery, acknowledged the compliment with a nod of his head and a grateful closing of his eyelids. He turned to Talarren, ignited by a spark of fiery intrigue.
“Talarren,” he began politely, “I understand you recently journeyed north to Highlands?”
Talarren’s preparation meeting with Aelred continued for a long time. They had decided to be as evasive as they could with regards to anything connected with the Amulet of Power.
“Indeed, Your Honour,” Talarren replied. “There is much to discuss regarding our journey pertaining to claims of this young man, Alex.”
Suddenly Peer Pintosh sat forward with animation. His many glistening items of jewellery embedded within his many trappings of state lit his fiery eyes. “Be very careful, Ranger,” he warned Talarren. “Absurd suggestions about Harrad’s lineage being Reswald’s rightful rulers is treason.”
Talarren nodded respectfully, disguising his feelings from long practice. Lafarrhine’s ambassador, sitting to his left, could not have done better. The ambassador ate handsomely, delighting in not having to play the sycophant with this obnoxious king, or engage in the cut and thrust of politics of this boaster. Aelred’s superior rank meant he could relax somewhat and let Aelred lead the discussion.
“Your Grace, with permission,” Talarren began, “I wish to raise questions which Your Majesty may find regrettable.”
“Then why raise them?” the Archdruid asked.
“And in which capacity do you raise these questions?” Pintosh added stony-faced, challenging Talarren to declare himself. “You are nought but a homeless Ranger, if I am not mistaken, holding no position of authority nor representing any interests bar your own…with respect,” he added. There was no respect.
“On this occasion he acts with my authority,” Aelred answered without rancour. “His question is not designed to cause trouble, Your Grace, but merely to find solutions to problems occurring in and around your borders.”
“And what concern is that of yours?” Pintosh asked, with a touch of hostility. “We know Lafarrhine’s propensity for delving into affairs that concern it not.”
Aelred did not rise to the bait. Instead, he said: “On this occasion, my Lord, our traders have complained that roads into and out of Reswald have become dangerous. Brigand attacks are more frequent. Highwaymen have proliferated. Goblins have been seen to walk openly along your roads.”
“Proliferated, indeed,” Pintosh repeated contemptuously. “Such a choice of word.”
“I see,” King Dagan said coldly, ignoring Aelred’s choice of word. “Do these complete your litany of complaints against my realm?” He studied Aelred, then Talarren who waited for Aelred to respond.
“There are others, Your Grace,” Aelred said simply.
“Such as?” King Dagan asked even more coldly, his dark eyes matching his black leather sleeves trimmed with dyed stoat fur and lined with polished silver buttons.
A tense coldness crept into the banquet hall, despite three roaring fires.
“Your Grace,” Aelred began, swallowing his anger at having to address this imposter with the appellation reserved for royals, “the Charter of Reswald clearly states Harrad’s line are legitimate rulers of Reswald.”
Quick as a cobra, Peer Pintosh hissed. He kicked back his chair and stood up menacingly. “Treason,” rang from his mouth. Two guards raced forward.
King Dagan raised his hand. Both guards halted their advance.
After a brief delay, Pintosh resumed his seat.
“I am a reasonable man,” King Dagan said. “No doubt this issue of lineage
concerns your reputed, I would say obsessive, need for order. For obeisance to protocols and rules,” he added condescendingly. “You are known as Lord Four Pea, are you not?” Aelred’s face remained expressionless.
Talarren’s jaw tensed. Stay strong, he told himself.
Dagan continued, his voice dripping with poison. “But even you must know this, that the Charter of Reswald was ratified by First Wizard of Alpha Circle many, many years ago on the basis that my predecessors had aligned themselves with Druids of Purple Ivy, accused of involvement in Dark Arts.
“I pray you consider this. What right did First Wizard have for declaring the House of Harrad legitimate rulers?” He waited, allowing his words to sink in. “Even if my ancestor, King Dagan II, aligned himself with Purple Ivy Druids who practiced Dark Arts, First Wizard had no authority to determine Reswald’s rightful ruler. Tell me, Aelred, what right did he have? As it happened, it is well known Dagan II was a feeble-minded fool entrapped by the sorcery of Archdruid Avon Mistletoe in those dark days. Neither myself nor our esteemed Archdruid here today deny either of these shameful facts of our ancestry.
“However, I am not feeble-minded, and our worthy Archdruid is not involved in Dark Arts. On the contrary, the House of Dagan with able assistance from the Grove of Purple Ivy assumed responsibility for this realm after the Norse Devastation. We, and not the House of Harrad, saved Reswald. We, and not the House of Harrad, survived the Norse Devastation. We, and not the House of Harrad, have reconstructed this kingdom into a stable and thriving realm. Reswald’s kingship is ours by default, even if in past times it may legitimately have belonged to Harrad. Which many in this kingdom have never recognised in any event. How dare you, an outsider, presume to declare this Charter of Reswald as legitimate?”
“Your Grace,” Aelred replied, casting a glance in the Archdruid’s direction, “we have reason to believe at least some Druids of Purple Ivy are practicing Dark Arts, as they have in past times.”
“How dare you?” the Archdruid hissed, his eyes flaring dangerously. “What evidence do you have for such an outrageous claim?”
“Impossible,” King Dagan said.
“Your Grace,” Talarren began, “do you know a druid named Leroy Boadstool?”
“Yes. What of it?”
At this, the Achdruid launched himself onto his feet, his agility surprising for a man of such advanced years. “Your Majesty, I insist these men be ordered to leave immediately. They have insulted us with base accusations and treason. But first, they need to tell us plainly whether they have in their possession or know where to find the Amulet of Power, a national heirloom rightfully belonging to Reswald’s reigning monarch.” He turned to Talarren. “Do you have it?” His fiery eyes flared with a dark passion. “I command you to hand it to me now. It belongs to my Grove.”
Talarren breathed in deeply, his grey eyes unflinching like cold steel. A power struck him at the Archdruid’s words. He felt sure a Command! Spell had been cast upon him. Its power swept him aside, skittling his defences. If not for Aelred’s presence, which surely fortified him, he would have blurted out there and then that the Amulet had indeed been found and lay safely in Queen Zenobia’s Citadel.
“What has this Amulet got to do with our discussion?” Talarren asked. Silence descended, except for crackling fires. Without moving their heads, the servants’ eyes darted back and forth. “But know this,” Talarren continued, “there exist those who possess great power whose ambition it is to destroy every Dark Arts practitioner, whether they be druids or magistrates. Or kings.”
King Dagan stood up. “How dare you, Ranger, feast at my table and insult my Chief Magistrate to his face. And is that a veiled threat on my person, an offense of high treason, punishable by death?”
Aelred stood up, his powerful presence casting an incontrovertible message to all present, including the servants. “Tensions are high, Your Grace. May I suggest we remain calm and be seated once more?”
King Dagan sat down. He motioned for his Chief Magistrate to be seated. Aelred followed.
“Your Majesty, as representative of King Toscannic of Lafarrhine, please allow me to speak candidly.” Without waiting for King Dagan’s response, with a calm assurance born of supreme self-confidence, the paladin continued. “Your Majesty, as you know, dark forces are appearing in our world. Peoples and nations must stand up and be counted, to align themselves with forces of good or forces of evil. We have evidence Dark Arts are being practiced in your kingdom.”
Aelred allowed his words to sink in. It was lost on none of those at table, save Lady Dagan, that in the Second Age Purple Ivy druids practicing Dark Arts were destroyed by First Wizard and the High Priest of Ehud. A paladin like Aelred and the current Guardians of Rohalgamoth were formidable foes, especially to Dark Arts practitioners. Not even power-hungry Dagan could fail to baulk against such adversaries.
“I charge you, Your Majesty, to be vigilant against those who practice Dark Arts. And to be very careful about aligning yourself with them. I charge you to recall King Dagan II’s fate at the hands of his Archdruid. I also charge you to investigate whether King Harrad’s progeny still lives, and why this secret has been kept from you. If Dark Arts are indeed being practiced in your realm with your permission, you must know you expose yourself to treachery from the Grove on the one hand and Guardians of Rohagamoth on the other. Either way, you are doomed.”
King Dagan seemed transfixed by Aelred’s words. Beside him, his Archdruid shuffled uncomfortably, almost despite himself drawn into Aelred’s orbit.
“Additionally, I am charged with responsibility of issuing Reswald’s treasury with an ultimatum. All taxes collected unlawfully by your soldiers and tax collectors from lords and peasants outside your realm need to be repaid in full, with no future tax collections. Failure to comply with this request within two months will result in sanctions from Lafarrhine, leading to further possible sanctions from Central Alliance nations, including Raysal-El-Hin.
“Finally, Lafarrhine formally requests you guarantee safe passage to travellers and traders within your kingdom. King Toscannic has authorised me to say that failure to comply with this reasonable request will result in imposition of tolls exacted on Reswald traders inside Lafarrhine’s borders. Goblins and other creatures are free to wander inside your kingdom, which is Crown right, but what are their objectives?
“On my own behalf, Your Majesty, may I suggest Houses of Harrod and Dagan determine a just means of exercising power in Reswald without recourse to violence or skullduggery? Only this will ensure a lasting peace within your borders, and safety from external threats.”
Stillness descended on the room like a stagnant pond. His words rang out, repeating themselves like an echo. The Archdruid, whose eyes only moments earlier contained a fiery passion, now took on a harrowed look, like a hunted fox. Lady Dagan gasped at the raw power emanating from Aelred. King Dagan’s arrogant expression turned to one of doubt. “They have done it before. Many years ago. They infiltrate, dominating weak sovereigns or feebleminded kings, ruling from behind. This is how they became so dominant during Dagan II’s reign. Your Majesty,” Aelred said in a humble yet commanding tone, “may I request your ear in private?”
“Outrageous!” the Archdruid boomed. “How dare you presume…?”
“Preposterous!” cried Peer Pintosh.
“I assure you, Your Grace, what I wish to tell you is of utmost importance,” Aelred said, his blue eyes compelling in their beauty and power.
“Very well.”
“But, Your Grace…” the Archdruid began.
Peer Pintosh rose abruptly to his feet. “I cannot…”
“Leave us!” Dagan commanded. His guards opened the door. Talarren left first, followed by Pintosh, then the Archdruid. “You as well,” he commanded his wife, who scowled, stole a longing look at Aelred, and departed, carrying folds of her royal dress in pudgy pink fingers.
Behind closed doors, Aelred revealed to King Dagan the Title Deeds of
Harrad Castle and the Charter of Reswald. He also showed him ransom letters dating back almost twenty years, as well as designs and drawings for an underground temple. This included instructions from the Archdruid to Leroy Boadstool outlining new ritual observances for child sacrifice.
Chapter Twenty Six
Talarren and Appac
CASPAR HAD BEEN DESPATCHED by Aelred to look in on King Xertes, so Talarren decided he would briefly call into Half Inn Half Tavern to see his old friend Appac. Caspar would arrive in Tessor way before he could, so a few days later would not be serious. Then he would head off to Raysal-El-Hin if that beleaguered nation suffered yet another invasion from Tāhūbād’s forces.
The following morning, an eerie silence met Talarren as he stepped into the empty dining area of Half Inn Half Tavern. Not a sound could be heard from adjoining kitchens. Appac had obviously not woken yet. Talarren decided to go back to his room and pack, then return for a hearty breakfast before setting off on his journey.
As he packed, he remembered his first meeting with Appac. It was during his Scandorlands campaign against Western orcs in the northern borders of the Great Mountain Range. Appac had been a slave of the orcs. Part of his brief as a slave involved dealing with men of Scandolands, negotiating trade deals. These never concluded peacefully. Appac always got blamed by orcs and humans alike. Finally the orcs condemned him to dig tunnels, along with other half-orc, orc and human slaves. When orc leaders discovered Appac’s singular ability for stealth, silence and secrecy, they used him to spy on other mountain orc tribes, often successfully stealing loot, usually not without blood on his hands. In the end, they released him for stealth raids against other orc tribes or human settlements. All other times he was chained to kitchen benches, getting belted whenever an orc felt his meal unpalatable, which, fortunately for Appac, did not occur too frequently, orcs not being discerning diners.
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