BALDERK– NOW
“What does it say?” I ask Istere again as we duck back into a nook in the castle so she can read in peace. She reads it once. And then a second time. And then chuckles. It’s not an amused chuckle, it’s a relieved head in your hands chuckle, and I feel my shoulders untense.
“Someone had some nerve to title it like that. I thought we were goners at first, but it’s actually brilliant!” She offers the flyer to me, “take a look, it exonerates us from everything!”
I stare down at the flyer.
“The Prince has long wanted this war to end. He has personally felt the loss of close friends, people he considers kin. He understands the pain of our people, and wants to end it. But the war, even though every year we say we’re closer to victory, will never end without drastic measures. We’ve all suspected it, and, looking down from the palace as battle lines stall, he could confirm this with his own eyes. So, he waited, hoping that one day he’d be able to do something to help our brothers, husbands and sons on the front lines. One day, he was delighted. An Elven diplomatic mission came in to offer peace, they had good terms and were open to negotiation, but the king wouldn’t even hear of it. He threw them in prison indefinitely.” I pause, “Wait a second, this sounds accurate, if it a bit flowery. Who wrote this?”
“I don’t know.” Istere smiles. “But they’re good! Continue, continue.”
“Now, something you must know, dear readers,” I slowly start again “Is that the Prince and the King have never been on good terms. In fact, the King tried to kill both his children years ago– some sort of paranoia telling him that they were turned against him. It is an open secret in the castle. The princess died, the prince survived, and the King–with the help of the High Priest– tricked the Queen into becoming an addict and a laughing stock, so she could never protest against the murderous way he ruled his family.” I frown. “Now that’s just going off the deep end.” I say, Uggard looks at me, confused, and I explain. “It was just the High Priest, the King had no part in that.”
“That we know off…” Istere mutters, but I ignore her, my eyes drawn to the next line of text.
“However, despite their sordid history, the Prince still reached out first, attempting to communicate with his father, to find the reason behind the spurning of peace that would save thousands of lives and bring prosperity to both kingdoms. The King cut him off, of course, his suspicion thicker than the blood in his veins.
“Through his own guard– a gift of the king from a more peaceful era in the castle, the Prince came to realize that the King did have a plan. Not of peace, but war. More war. Lots more war. The corrupt High Priest had brought him a mysterious weapon, that would release an eternally expanding poisonous gas once used. The goal was to drive all elves back across the mountains, deploy the weapon in their territory, and utterly destroy them, sacrificing all our kin sent to hold the border.”
“Wait, wait, holdup a second–!” Uggard says, “Is that one real? Is there really such a weapon?”
“Yes, now hush!” Istere scolds him. Seemingly enjoying the reading even more than I am, even though it’s her third time.
“Of course,” I continue, “Such a big goal requires even larger sacrifices. They would need more troops, more bodies to throw against elvish armies to drive them back. They would need massive manpower to scour the land for any last elves to extinguish. And knowing that they had already taken all the men of age there were to be had–” I flip the paper onto it’s back. “The King and the High Priest determined that the duty to be arrow fodder should fall upon the children. They created a policy, that they have already passed, where children– our children, as young as thirteen will be sentenced to the front. The Prince was the only desperate dissenter on the council. The rest were cowed by the fear of the King’s wrath.
“In one last desperate move, the prince set the elves free, begging them to go home and find a way to neutralize the weapon. Because he had caught onto what all the priests, the council members, and the other nobles and even servants were too scared to tell the king. What happens when the ever expanding poisonous gas rises higher than the mountains? When it spills over, back into our territory?
“What happens, when the King’s weapon comes back to bite us?
“There isn’t enough room in the palace– with its magically clean air– for even a fraction of all the dwarves in this city.
“Of course, the King was more than a little upset by this, and his overwhelming belief that everyone is out to get him didn’t help at all. He called the prince a traitor to his people, an elf lover, and said that he would kill one of the very same guards that he gifted his son long ago, –now his only friends and allies in a castle that swears allegiance to his father– each day that the prince doesn’t come out and give himself over to the tender mercies of a heavily biased court with a man who has tried to kill him multiple times at it’s head.
“So the prince remains in hiding, plotting to save his country’s children, his country itself, his own people, his true family, from the whims of his paranoid father, who can’t see any problems with wiping out everyone except himself and his cronies, simply because he has failed to conquer anything in his extensive lifetime.”
Everyone is silent for a few seconds, just absorbing the impact of that last paragraph.
“Wow.” I finally say. “It’s a bit melodramatic, but good. Really good.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“I know, right?!” Istere says. “It completely changes the playing field! Anyone who reads this will think the King is insane! And his announcement just spurs that onwards!”
“We have to go back to the others.” I say, “We need a new plan. You don’t have to risk going to him right away anymore. There’s no way he can execute your guardsmen when they are ‘a gift’ from him and ‘good friends’ of yours and not ‘mercenaries’ like he’d said in his announcement.” I unconsciously mimic Istere’s habit of using air quotes, and then flush pink beneath my beard as I realize what I’ve done. She beams at me.
“You’re right.” She says, “We need to rethink our strategy.”
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LUDGERA
It takes about an hour to explain everything to Kit, and another two for Agnark to wake up. The first thing Kit says to him is, “You are either a very good liar, a brilliant storyteller, or have latent mind-reading capabilities.”
“What?” Agnark stares at her, zero comprehension in his eyes. “Wait, who even are you?”
“This is Kit, my maid and confidant.” I say, introducing her to Agnark for the first time. Somehow, although she’s known about him for a while, and he knows about her in passing, I never got the chance to introduce them. Once I say her name though, a light dawns in his eyes.
“Oh…you’re that Kit.”
“I also” Kit announces, “happen to be the sister of one Smedigan Blix, my full name is Katrina-Beligrasse Blix the third– you can see for yourself why I chose to be called Kit instead of that nasty mouthful. Anyways, I know for a fact that the Prince never told you over half the stuff that you put in that pamphlet.”
“Wait, you never told me you were Blix’s sister!” I stare at her, shocked and a little wounded. “You haven’t been spying on me this whole time, have you?”
“No, no, no! Of course not.” Kit says, wide eyed, leaning over to grab my hand reassuringly. “I’ve never told a soul what we’ve discussed Mi’lady. Smedigan knew I worked here, but he was more busy complaining the few times he met to bother asking questions. And you know my fascination for stories, so I just, well, pulled them out of him. He was definitely holding some things back when he would tell me what was going on, and he would always swear me to secrecy, but I wouldn’t be surprised if about three quarters of the things you put in that pamphlet are real. How did you end up figuring it all out?” She looks at Agnark expectantly.
Agnark glances at me before replying. “Most of it was educated guesswork, and information I’ve overheard in my father’s household.” He tries to sit up and sways woozily.
Kit pushes him back down without hesitating. “Down boy. You’ve lost half your blood for goodness sake! Oh, what sort of servant am I, I should have gotten you some medicine. Mi’lady, please don’t let him sit up until I get back. We can continue this conversation then.” With that quick turnaround, she hurries out the door, the skirt of her black and white uniform billowing out behind her.
“Are you okay?” I ask Agnark.
“I feel like I was dragged through a bed of needles, and I’m completely exhausted, but other than that I’m fine.” Agnark attempts to smile at me. It falls more than a little flat when he winces in the middle of it.
“That spell, it wasn’t supposed to be that dangerous was it?” I ask, “I was so worried, but you said not to intervene, so I really couldn’t do anything, but I wanted to pull you out of the flames so badly! I–I–” I start tearing up, now that I’m outside of the stress, and seeing Agnark not dead before me, all the emotions are coming back. The stress, the desperation, it’s choosing to hit now, and it’s hitting me hard.
I sniffle, trying to wipe away the tears before he can see them. “Just–” My voice chokes up and I clear my throat. “Don’t do that to me again. Don’t cast spells or runes or whatever if they’re so dangerous. I don’t like seeing you hurt. Especially when I can’t help.”
Agnark gently pulls my hands away from my eyes and kisses one of my tearstained palms. “I’m sorry.” He says. “I know that we needed that spell, but I wish it hadn’t hurt you like this.” His soft blue eyes meet mine. “The spell wasn’t supposed to be nearly that bad, I promise.”
I stare at him. “If we have to do it again for some stupid reason, let me share the blood cost. That way you won’t have to hurt yourself as much.”
Agnark draws back, stiffening up and trying to rise again, but this time he can only lift his head off the pillow. “No way am I doing–!” He starts, but Kit bursts back in the room before he can finish his sentence.
“YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT'S HAPPENING OUTSIDE!” She shouts excitedly, dropping a bottle of medication on the bedside table, and slopping a dose onto a spoon which she shoves unceremoniously in Agnark’s still gaping mouth. “Riots in the streets! Mobs at most of the major nobles’ city dwellings! There’s talk of storming the castle gates! Your pamphlet even made the evening news! Here it is, fresh off the presses, ready to be spread all over the country!” She gleefully drops a paper on Agnark’s lap. “Everything is spiraling wonderfully! Even the army wants nothing to do with this scandal now! The King’s reputation is in absolute tatters! Oh, I am so excited to live in these times!“
I look at the front page. Sure enough, there’s a copy of our flyer, and beneath it a copy of the King’s earlier announcement. Flipping through the pages, I see interviews with prominent generals, merchants, lower nobles, even my parents! They all take a negative point of view on the newest decrees, decrying the age lowering and the poison weapon. There’s a whole section devoted to dubious dealings and blatant corruption that people finally feel allowed to talk about. Some people even question the King’s mental stability, and admit that they’ve felt like this for years now.
I start reading aloud, sharing some choice pieces with Agnark and Kit, but Agnark quickly interrupts me.
“Wait– go to the open letters for a second.”
“Where’s that?” I ask, confused. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Page A20, it’s near the back, so most people don’t care enough to read it.” Agnark explains, as I dutifully flip the pages. “I want to confirm something. Check for a letter to Mr. Aye.”
“Yes, there’s one. ‘Dear Mr. Aye, My debt is repaid. Vulkin.’“ I hesitate, “Vulnark Pottakin?” I ask Agnark.
“Yep.” He grins stupidly at the ceiling. “I knew he’d come through, no matter what he said. There’s no way he could leave a story like this lying down.” He twists his head to look at me and Kit.
“Do you think this makes up for the mess we– well, I– caused?”
“Are you kidding?!” I exclaim. “The Prince should come to us with flowers and on bended knees to thank us for this one!”
Agnark frowns slightly, much to my surprise. “I could have done without the mental image of His Highness on his knees before you and offering you flowers.” He says, and Kit starts laughing her head off while I stare confusedly between the two of them.