Chateau Cascade

by Dusty Ridgeman

  In the East, the octorans lived in the great saltwater lake in the center of the Affiliation. They were a strange octopus-like race capable of walking on land and were deadly in combat with their many arms. Despite their combat prowess, they were a peaceful race; left to their own devices they might have quietly tended to their lake-floor farms forever. It was said that the arcane bio-viziers of the Affiliation used them alongside other demihumans as templates for horrific chimeras: monstrous beasts forged by a combination of chirurgery and magic. It was, in fact, common in the East for warriors to have octoran-style tentacles grafted onto their person. Like most of the vulgarities visited upon the denizens of the East, this sort of mutilation was not optional. Citizens conscripted by their local Tower Lord could have expected to receive any number of “gifts” of this nature. When he learned this, Jak wondered whether the tentacles were magically grown or if they had come from the octorans themselves. He mused that his father, with his inane ideas about magic being the work of demons, had at least been right that it could be very unpleasant if taken too far.

  Even the men of the land could differ greatly in demeanor and appearance. The minority Ouroloans in the West were olive-skinned, bearded, hirsute, brash and quick to anger, but also quick to drink with their foes and to forgive. Some believed that these desert-wanderers were the result of mixing bloodlines with an ancient, extinct species of earth-spirits long ago. Outside of the Ouroloan desert, almost all non-Ouroloan men of the Imperium were fair skinned, with eyes and hair tending toward lighter colors. In the East, the men were a long-legged and dark-skinned folk who tended toward powerful builds when not malnourished. However, one could find all sorts of men in the East. As there was no proscription against miscegenation between the men and demihumans there, many half and quarter-breeds lived within the borders of the Affiliation.

  He learned of other less prolific races, but it wasn't long until he encountered one that wasn't mentioned in any of the Cascadian library’s many books. On a day near the end of his first year at Chateau Cascade, Jak was introduced to a peculiar little creature he came to know only as Lunarm.

  A Gathering of Allies

  The sun was just beginning to set and its autumn light flowed richly through the Chateau's tall stained-glass windows. After his swordplay training, Jak had a shower; even after a year in this place he still marveled at the technology. The plumbing had been purchased from and installed by Western engineers – it allowed the Chateau to pump fresh river water in from the Sphynx itself into the castle for a variety of purposes. Jak often wondered how it was that the river replenished itself, given that it fell off the floating continent and into the interminable abyss below. This was one of the great mysteries of the land; it seemed that the river must flow from some endless wellspring in the Peril mountains. Cartographers who ventured into that part of the world rarely returned, and those that did would speak of little other than the horrifying creatures that lurked in those dark places. As a result, the Sphynx's nature remained a mystery to most.

  Jak strolled shirtless into the dorm with nothing but the towel tied ‘round him at the waist and found a young woman standing idly next to his bunk, staring at her feet. Jak felt his heart leap up into his throat – this girl was breathtaking. With his training he hadn't had time for romancing over the past year, but that didn't stop him from thinking about girls or trying to strike up conversations with those who were in the castle. He was especially partial to the brunette named Anne who made deliveries for the quartermaster, but this new, exotic pale vision of a girl had blown mousy little Anne right out of his thoughts. He realized that he had been staring at her for almost a full minute and decided he ought to speak.

  “Oh, are you my new bunkmate?” He hoped that he didn't sound too hopeful. “My name's Jak, what's yours?” He extended a hand, offering to shake hers. His heart raced involuntarily at the thought of her touch. He was so nervous that his towel almost slipped off as he reached out.

  She looked up, then tilted her head to the side. From her previous posture, Jak had assumed she was simply shy; now, she wore an inscrutable half-smile as she appraised the young man in front of her. He could not fully read the expression, but it gave him the impression that the girl was not, in fact, bashful at all. He had the strangest feeling that he was a mouse, and a cat had come to play.

  She had the same peculiar violet hair as Rafael, and the same grey eyes – only hers were faded. Older. Her deadened eyes clashed strangely with her youthful face. Looking at her now, closer, he felt as though he had seen her somewhere before but chalked it up to his memories of the man who had given him a place at the Chateau one year ago. Looking at her had made Jak's towel feel considerably tighter. He shifted uncomfortably, hoping that she hadn’t noticed.

  She barely acknowledged him; she cast an appraising sidelong glance in his direction but did not reach out to take his outstretched hand. Jak awkwardly smiled and dropped his hand to his side as she began to speak. “Lunarm is like you. New to the world. A babe in the woods.” Her eyes gleamed wetly but her soft, sing-song voice didn’t waver. “I expect you to treat him well. Children deserve love even if they do not always get it.”

  He blinked, stupidly, several times. What the hell was this girl rambling about? He tried to work over what she had said, but his brain felt like it had been dipped in molasses – he found himself staring at her body, barely registering her strange words. She could not be described as voluptuous; instead, she was thin and fragile-looking, and pale as a porcelain doll. Even so, he could not help himself. It didn't help his distraction that she was wearing a somewhat sheer blue gown that left precious little to the imagination.

  “I... think you have me confused for someone else. I'm Jak.” His voice cracked a little and he wore a wide, goofy smile on his face despite his confusion.

  She reached into the cleavage of her gown and pulled out a velvety purple bag the size of a goose egg. She set it down on Jak's bed, moving with an otherworldly grace. Jak simply stared as she turned to go. Then, as if changing her mind about something, she turned slightly and gave him another sidelong glance. She said, “The demons don't like you. Perhaps that makes you lucky. Perhaps it makes you unlucky.” And with that, she abruptly glided out of the room.

  Jak shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts – and of the smell of her lavender perfume. He hadn’t the haziest idea what she meant, of course, and couldn't rid himself of the feeling that he knew her from somewhere. He had seen her before, he was sure of it. As he pondered, he noticed the velvet bag on the lower bunk next to him start to move. Jak's mouth opened wide in surprise as a little, rocky yellow hand appeared out of the tiny opening. Then, another. Together they started to push the bag open entirely. Soon, the denizen of the bag had freed himself.

  It was a little yellow rock-like creature. His head was in the shape of a crescent, but the rest of his body was that of a stubby little man, maybe five or six inches tall. He was luminous like the crystals that lit many of the rooms in the Chateau – his rocky flesh glowed softly with a dim yellow light. Two emerald-green crystalline eyes sat close to the top of his banana-head and they rotated to look directly at Jak. His mouth seemed as though it was perpetually curved into a happy little smile. Jak simply stood there, wearing a look of utter disbelief on his face as he scrutinized the tiny creature. Suddenly, it began to speak.

  “Lunarm is only five-months-old!” the little rock-man exclaimed. A slightly brighter yellow light emanated from his mouth as he spoke. His voice was tinny, albeit surprisingly human – in fact, his voice might have been easily mistaken for that of a very young boy. “I'm a moon-rock. You have to take care of me. Mistress said so! Don't worry, Lunarm is useful. Be friends with Lunarm, okay?” He spoke with the sort of excited innocence one usually only hears in a small child's voice.

  “Uhh...” For a moment, all Jak could do was let out a dull noise, a sign of his confusion. “Mistress? Who was that girl?”

  “Mistress is queen! E
veryone listens to mistress. Mistress is strong, pretty, and magical. Mistress grew Lunarm from a little yellow rock and gave him love and moonlight and now Lunarm grows fast. Mistress is great!” Jak noticed the little creature gestured wildly while it talked. It almost looked like it was dancing and, despite how flabbergasted he was by the existence of this creature, he was starting to worry that it might just fall off the bed.

  “Wait. Did you say queen?” He went to his bed; on it lay a pair of tanned leather pants that Anne had delivered to him last week. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a copper coin. Turning it in his hand, he took on a dumbfounded expression as he stared at the image embossed on the front of the coin. “Are you saying that was Queen Acelia?”

  “Oh yes! Mistress Acelia is queen! Everyone says so.” The little rock-man nodded his banana-head so vigorously that Jak thought it might pop off.

  Jak took his newfound stewardship of the little moon-rock man in stride. The Chateau could be a strange place at the best of times; he chose to see this as just another oddity that came along with training at the Chateau and achieving his dreams. Lunarm proved to be an interesting companion – he would attend Jak's lessons with him, sitting quietly on his shoulder, sometimes whispering in his ear about the lecture topic. Jak found himself talking openly to the little creature about his aspirations, studies, and swordplay, even his various crushes on the girls in the castle and his inability to speak to them without stammering. Lunarm proved to be a constant companion, rarely leaving his shoulder.

  The first time Lunarm accompanied Jak to the mess hall, he offered the little creature some of his meal. Lunarm refused, explaining that it did not need to eat, but instead fed on moonlight itself. From this point onward Jak made sure to either set him gently atop a windowsill at night or keep his satchel open if they were outside together. Jak wondered if it was really five-months-old, and if so, how had it learned to speak in such a short amount of time? Jak often found himself puzzling over the origins of his new companion, but questions posed to the creature were often left half-answered.

  Most of all, Jak wondered why Queen Acelia herself – the woman in charge of the nation he was training to serve – would bother coming to him directly about anything. An audience with the queen was a rarity. She was well known for spending most of her time cloistered away in some unknown corner of the castle; few of her advisors even knew how to contact her. She seemed to have a prescient knowledge of any crises that might suddenly arise and require her attention. During such times, her advisors would find her casually resting upon her gaudy throne of gems, her signature expression of wistful boredom etched plainly across her beautiful, ancient face. For the most part, however, she was simply absent – and yet, this was the same woman who had paid a personal visit to a young trainee in the dormitory. He couldn't make sense of it.

  He tried to ask his instructors about his newfound situation, but none of them had ever heard of a creature like Lunarm. When pressed about Acelia, one of the older instructors had simply chuckled and said that she was a good queen, but an eccentric one. Many seemed to think it was some sort of practical joke. Jak tried to get in contact with Rafael – he quite liked and was grateful to the violet-haired man, as odd as he was – but had not seen him since their initial meeting. He was apparently a difficult man to get a hold of; whenever Jak asked about him, he was told that Rafael was away from the Chateau on business.

  Quentin, on the other hand, was a common sight in the castle, coming and going with great frequency. Cascadian Knights were far more powerful than a conventional soldier and tended to act with a certain amount of independence, but unlike Quentin they usually worked in three-to-five man squads. Instead, he almost always traveled alone. His unique talents allowed him to act as a sort of courier and independent agent for the Chateau. As crude and obnoxious as Quentin could be, Jak was grateful for his presence. While they hadn't exactly become friends, they spoke often enough, in passing, occasionally meeting each other in one of the many hallways of the Chateau.

  Jak spotted Quentin and stopped him in the cafeteria hall just a few days after he had acquired his rocky friend. When Quentin heard the whole story, he leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Now, I know what you're thinking. You met the queen and now you want to know how to get a look at that tight little body. Trust me, I tried too.” Jak's face went slack with surprise as Quentin's eyebrows waggled suggestively above his teashade sunglasses. “What? You think a king like me doesn't deserve a queen? Anyway, don't bother. She's frigid. Try that thick little blonde sous-chef that works down at Gyorgy's Canteen in the basement, she's great. Sally? Sarah? Something like that. Wouldn't know it from looking at her, but she's surprisingly limber if you catch my drift.”

  Quentin guffawed loudly and walked off before Jak could collect himself enough to respond. As usual, after talking to Quentin, Jak found himself both disgusted and jealous of this man. He was doubtful of the story – in fact, he was doubtful of most of what the man said. Nevertheless, he figured that it could be true. He couldn't quite explain it, but he tasted bile at the thought of a pretty girl like Sarya with Quentin. Little did Jak know that within a month he’d be forced to spend most of his time with the man.

  ✽✽✽

  “Coming! Armor-man is coming! Wake up, Jak! Up! Up!” Lunarm's tiny hands grasped weakly at Jak's sleeping form in the bunk bed. It was just before dawn but slightly past the time he was supposed to wake up. Lunarm tried opening his mouth wide to spill more light onto Jak's eyes but to no effect – his loud snoring continued to fill the room.

  He was dreaming about Anne delivering things to him when he felt an iron-clad hand grab roughly on his shoulder. “Whua....?” he mumbled and sat up with a start, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to reveal a one-eyed, grey-haired man in full plate mail standing before him.

  It was Corbyn, an old knight who had been teaching him about armor maintenance. His gruff voice spoke, “New orders, trainee. You're shipping out for your evaluation mission.” The man-at-arms dropped a sealed letter in Jak's lap and walked away, grumbling something about “oversleeping” and “laziness.”

  Jak looked at the envelope. It was sealed with a large chunk of wax which had been embossed with a miniature castle resting on a bridge, the official royal seal of the Chateau. The envelope, which bore gilded drawings of small teal and blue flowers, seemed like a delicate thing – not something you'd expect to contain military orders. He eagerly tore the envelope open, excited to learn what official message it might contain. Inside was a handwritten letter written on thick white stationery. The script was large, flowing, and flowery – Jak immediately noticed that the i’s were dotted with little hearts and that the entire thing had been written in a dark pink ink. The smell of lavender hit him as soon as he opened it. He read:

  Loyal Jak,

  How are you enjoying Lunarm? You need not answer. I know that you needed a friend, and now you have one. Oh, how the time flies for us little ones on the back of this great big tortoise in the sky. You have been here for a year, and now it is time for you to show me what you can do.

  I am told you are not a very skilled warrior, but you have taken well to diplomacy. I am therefore sending you on a mission of diplomacy. You will be accompanied by one who completely lacks such graces. He is experienced and will guide you. Meet with him on the west side of the Cascadian Bridge, just outside the castle, at the break of dawn. Bring your travel-things. You shall have need of them, for you will travel far.

  The Best Queen There Ever Was,

  Acelia

  Jak read the letter from start to finish three times. For a brief moment, he wondered what he had gotten himself into. Was this bizarre young woman really the monarch of all of Cascadia? The thought didn't last long – he had long been yearning for an opportunity to go on an adventure. With all the impatience of youth, he wanted nothing more than to prove himself the hero that he had always wanted to be.

  He quickly gathered his things. In his usual
hip-sheath, he put his old steel short sword. At his right side, he had another sheath and in it he placed a slightly curved scimitar that measured roughly the length of his arm. Both its blade and hilt were forged entirely out of black iron, and runic symbols were carved vertically into either side. The sword itself was effectively on loan from the quartermaster. In fact, it had been made specifically for Jak. However, the expense of the thing meant that eventually he would either have to return the sword or pay for it out of any treasures he found during his missions. A muscled weaponsmith named Herk, enormous and surly, had crafted it from his favorite material. Later, the runes were meticulously carved by an enchanter's apprentice working in the library. Jak didn't know it, but that apprentice's name was Tusk, the very same orc who had once shared a bunk with him. Though Herk had forged the blade and Tusk had carved the runes, the overall design of the weapon had been made by one of Jak's instructors, an enchanter-turned-swordsman who was an expert on mixing swordplay with magic.

  Three professional craftsmen – two masters and an apprentice – had been required to create the runic sword. Though finely crafted, there was nothing magical or otherwise supernatural about the blade. Magical weapons were some of the most expensive and rare things in the land; one would certainly not be wasted on a trainee. Its designer had been certain that the inscribed runes would make it easier for Jak to weave his own meager magical spells onto the blade in the midst of combat. Supposedly they had somehow been “keyed” to Jak himself, though Jak himself understood very little about the process.

  As he finished preparing to leave, he strapped on his old banded mail. His new station afforded him certain perks, and so the scuffs and dents had been removed by an armor smith. He stopped by the quartermaster’s office on his way out of the castle and filled his satchel with rations for the road – salted jerky, dried vegetables, a few hard biscuits. Standing across the counter, mousy little Anne smiled warmly at him and wished him good luck. He couldn't tell whether she liked him or if she was just nice to everybody.