When the new day dawned, I felt very well-rested. I ordered a light breakfast of muffins and coffee and got a piece of parchment, quill, and ink. Scribbling quickly, I penned a brief note to Margrin for him to meet me at the archery range at eight bells. I sent the note along with a valet and dressed in my athletics outfit, putting my crossbow and bolts in the satchel Ördelon had given me.
I splashed cold water on my face from the washbasin and suddenly realized that I absolutely reeked! After some practice, a hot bath was surely in order.
I asked my valet how I would go about bathing and he simply blushed. Curious, I asked him the matter and he shyly said “Without clothes, Sir.”
Surely the child couldn't be that dense! I clarified myself, asking where I should go and he told me of a bathhouse on the ground behind the Palace Tree. Bagging a change of clothes, I set off for the archery range.
Margrin wasn't yet there when I arrived. In fact, I was alone. All the better for me because I had never fired one of these contraptions, but how hard could it be?
In fact, thankfully, it was criminally easy. What a simple weapon to be so lethal. And it was a great equalizer. Anyone could learn to work one of these things. Just a pull of a trigger from range and you could end someone's life. No training required.
Be that as it may, I was determined to master the thing before May ever saw me try to loose a shot. Cocking the thing back was no problem. I placed a bolt into the tiller and took careful aim at a large, straw-filled target some 50 yards away.
Aiming just high of the bullseye to account for the distance, I squeezed the trigger lever and the bolt leapt from the weapon. As soon as I took the shot, Cralix appeared directly in its line of flight!
“Get down!” I hollered, but too late. I was shocked though when the bolt passed right through the woman's abdomen.
Stepping to the side and looking back at the target, she said “You're a fine shot, Mister Bascombe. You shoot often?”
Either my eyes or mind, perhaps both, were playing tricks on me. Yet, there was my bolt, stuck in the dead center of the target. How could I have missed her?
“I'm not here physically, Sir. I'm … well, I shan't tell you where I am other than to say it's warm and exotic, haha!”
“Why are you here in any form, Cralix?”
“I show myself lest you forget, Mister Bascombe. And also to make an offer.”
“I won't bargain with you, Witch. I have my honor.”
“Hah! Sir, I can only speak for myself, but I'd rather be dishonorably wealthy and powerful than honorably poor and vulnerable! You've a true problem wrestling with your sanctimoniousness, don't you Mister Bascombe? Afraid to expose what's really in your heart?”
What a maddening woman! “I struggle with right and wrong as does anybody, Witch. And, no, I don't feel morally superior to anyone. Except for perhaps vile creatures such as yourself.”
“I see,” she said calmly, “I take it my father has told you the whole sordid tale about me.”
“He has, indeed,” I replied. “Or at least as much as I need to know.”
“Oh, there's so much more to it, Mister Bascombe!” she giggled.
“Your guest is arriving, Sir. Just allow me to say this, the more effort you put into finding me or waylaying my plans, the greater the risk to your dear father and mother. Maybe you don't care so much about them, but they also currently steward the majority of your wealth. Good day, Mister Bascombe.”
And she vanished just as the door opened behind me and Margrin entered the room.
It must have appeared odd, me standing there, motionless, trying to assess what had just happened.
“Admiring your shot, Sir?” Margrin called.
“Hah! Indeed, Margrin! First time firing one of the damned things, too.”
“Impressive, Tendil. Glad to be on your side.”
As he was unpacking his own bow and bolts, I said calmly, “Cralix was here just now, Margrin. Before you came in.”
“Wait, wh… what do you mean, Tendil? I passed no one coming in. Are you alright?” he said, coming over to me.
“Not here physically. She was projecting herself from wherever she and my father are hiding. I've a strong feeling they're in Swalesia, but I can't be certain. She's threatened the safety of both my parents, Margrin, if I pursue plans against her.”
He took a moment, “There's nothing of which I'd say she's incapable, Tendil. I hate to add a negative note, but it's the truth. She is irredeemably evil, that one. Gods knows how she came from the loins of Ördelon. He's a good Elf, Tendil.”
“Yes, Margrin, he seems to be. How about you, Sir? Are you a good Elf?”
He looked at me blankly. “What do you mean, Sir?”
“As tied into the Syndicate as you are, and the workings of the Hard Coast Company, can you honestly tell me you didn't know about Cralix and my father?”
He began to look slightly perturbed at my insinuations, “Now see here, Bascombe! I'll not have you …”
“Besmirch your good name, Margrin? Sully your sterling reputation?”
He actually looked hurt with those last words. “Calm your tongue, Bascombe, before it gets calmed.”
When he uttered the threat, I stepped back and drew my blade. “Defend yourself, scoundrel!”
He stepped back as well but didn't draw steel. He put up his hands, palms facing me. “You have me, Sir. I'm a barely adequate swordsman and I don't wish to be run through this day.”
“Then sheathe your threats, Mister Ephisieryón. They'll steer you down a dark path with me. I must know though, Sir, with no priest present, you know a great deal more than you let on, don't you?”
“I know some things, Mister Bascombe. Yes, I did know about your father and Cralix. The reason I didn't mention it here is that I didn't wish to upset Ördelon. He had been free of the knowledge thus far, blessedly. Can you imagine being that one's father and having her deeds recounted to you daily? But I've got people watching both of them. They are, in fact, in Sandlise in a villa overlooking the Baric.”
Sandlise, if you're unfamiliar, is the largest city on the Southern Hard Coast in the kingdom of Emfirinia on the Baric Ocean. Of course, the entirety of the Hard Coast is on the Baric Ocean. Emfirinia is a small kingdom, more of a city state actually, but very wealthy, an important trade hub for the Hard Coast Company.
“The important thing, Bascombe, is that I've been paying attention to their every move. I've seen nothing to suggest their involvement in these current affairs other than to send you as a negotiator. Both your father and Cralix are wealthy enough without all the effort to be involved in our mess.”
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I sheathed my rapier. “Please, Margrin, accept my apologies. I'm at my wits’ end with all of the pieces here needing attention. I'm sorry.”
“Think nothing of it, Bascombe,” he sighed. “It's quite common in my line of work to be threatened actually. Far too common. Yet, here I am. I can't imagine what you're going through, to be honest. I never knew my father or mother.”
“You were orphaned?” I asked. I didn't like the conversation going down this path. Especially dealing with someone like Margrin. He's a terribly likeable fellow, but also, I'm sure, a consummate con artist. The tale unfolding before me would hit me on a visceral level, I was sure, and I needed to stay mentally sharp. Already under the influence of infatuation with May and anger with my father and Cralix, I needed to avoid any other diversions.
“We were travelling with a caravan heading from Nez Clarë to Nez Ambríl, just a two day trip by wagon, and we were set upon by Hobgoblins of the Red Fang tribe. I was only two, Bascombe. I hid under the bodies of my parents til the looting was over and the monsters left. I know it's no longer diplomatic to call them monsters, but for a two-year old child, how do you tell the difference?”
“Anyway, another caravan came along a few hours later, a mix of Humans and Elves. These were Syndicate people, Bascombe. Coming out of the Taliswood and headed for Wikehold. Their cargo was stolen amber, so they were anxious to be out of the area or they would have taken me to Nez Clarë on the way through. Or so they said. I think they just fancied having a child to mold in their image, a sort of apprentice and mascot.”
“I've not heard that story, Margrin. Of all the tales I have heard about you, that one's been left out. I'm sorry for the loss. Truly tragic.”
“The worst part, Bascombe, is that I know nothing about them, my parents. There were no survivors but me. No passenger manifests. The Hobgoblins burned what they didn't take. Savage creatures. That's why I left Wikehold during the Siege of the Black Banner and came to Nez Ambríl to fight. As xenophobic as those Elves are, did you know they have a foreign legion in their army? I came and went under an assumed name, of course. I can't tell you how many of those bastards I killed. Dozens, hundreds. The bow is my weapon, Bascombe, and I sniped them mercilessly. Blind with rage the entire thirty-seven days of the siege.”
“I don't know why I felt you needed to know all of that, Sir. Friend. Let's have a truce between us. Please.”
“Very well, Margrin” I replied, “you've led quite a life, haven't you?”
“I've lived a dozen of your lives, Bascombe. And, Élois willing, I'll live a dozen more. You still don't know me as you should. Once I've saved your ass in battle two or three times, you'll know who you can and cannot trust in this world.”
“Will you fight by me, with the Queen, Sir?” I was genuinely excited at the prospect. Until that moment, in all honesty, I was absolutely terrified, the whole idea of war and bloodshed simply an abstraction. I would be with May, but she was levels and levels above me when it came to matters martial. Margrin was someone with whom I could improve as a soldier.
He seemed momentarily withdrawn. “I haven't asked yet to be part of her Royal Guard. I'm nervous at the prospect, speaking honestly. I cannot abide rejection, Bascombe. It rips me up.”
“I'll vouch for you, my Friend,” I proclaimed as if my vote carried weight. “I do think the Queen has warmed to you, and your experience in the siege should count for a lot. I'll tell you, though, she's rather disdainful about the longbow. She'll want you to carry a crossbow if you're around her.”
“I can make that adjustment, Tendil. I'm proficient with the weapon. And I suggest we get some practice in while we're here instead of nattering the day away.”
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Around time for luncheon, I was summoned to the Queen's chambers. And I still hadn't bathed! Taking a washcloth to my pits and parts, a squirt of some essence of burned lavender, and I was as ready as I could be for now.
One of the valets led me along the corridors to her rooms and asked me along the way if I was indeed the famed Human swordsman from Wikehold. I allowed that I was and the lad was absolutely beaming all the way to the Queen's door. Feeling admiration is a powerful experience, dear reader. Would that we all get to experience it at least once in our brief lives.
Knocking and then announcing me, the valet withdrew and I entered to see May seated at the table over tea. By herself for a change.
“Welcome, Tendil,” she spoke, smiling broadly and extending her hand.
Taking it in mine and kissing it softly, I said, “My lovely May. What an enduring pleasure.”
She was not dressed as royalty today, a white linen tunic, brown breeches and black riding boots, her hair loosely pulled back in a bundle of braids. An amethyst in each earlobe the only sign of wealth and privilege other than her noble bearing.
“Tendil,” she said, "I must ask you something deeply personal if I may.”
I couldn't imagine anything I wouldn't happily share with her. “Of course my love,” I smiled.
“Tendil, my Dear, why do you smell so? “
That caught me completely off guard and I laughed, “What do you mean, dearest?”
“Well, Tendil, respectfully, you smell like an unwashed vagrant in a brush fire. It's terribly unpleasant.”
Her candor was so endearing. I explained to her how the events of the past two days had delayed the bath I had planned. I also told her of my encounter with Cralix.
“We shan't discuss the Witch,” she said, "it seems to me that there might be a mutual attraction betwixt you two and I won't abide it!”
I was aghast. “My Darling, she is beautiful, but while she had ten percent of my eye, you have one hundred percent of my heart. And the other ninety percent of my eye, I might add.”
“Let me know when I have that last ten percent and I'll give you a kiss, hmph!” Then she turned for the door and walked out. Rushing to follow and with no words spoken, we ended up at the baths.
“Go! Tendil! Make yourself suitable for a queen. I'll have fresh clothes waiting for you in the dressing area.” She said dismissively.
As I walked toward the baths, she said quietly, I could hardly hear her over the sound of horse drawn carts and pedestrian traffic. “I know she's beautiful, Tendil. I'm not blind. But it's all me or nothing. Am I quite understood?”
Rushing back over to her, I went to take her hand which she quickly snatched away. “Not here, Love. Not in public.” she scolded.
“Very well, May. Let it be known, though, that you're everything to me. My sun, my moon, all the beautifully poetic sentiments you could possibly imagine.”
Rolling her eyes, she said “Don't be lazy Tendil. You can't finish a list of romantic metaphors with a dismissive ‘etcetera.’”
“My apologies, Love. Shan't happen again. My lists shall be extensive, meticulously defined, and possibly annotated for clarity.”
I left her there giggling. And what a beautiful sound that was.
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When I emerged, fresh for the world's approval, she welcomed me with a heartfelt smile and said, “There, much better. Now let's go put you in some armor, Sir.”
As he was the last time, old Joakin was bent over an anvil pounding out glowing hot steel. And again, startled when he noticed us.
“Ah! My Queen! I've been expecting you! Quickly shuffling behind a cluttered counter, he pulled a long, thin wooden box from beneath it and placed it on the counter top once he'd shoved a great many items out of the way.
“For you to open, Your Majesty.”
Lifting the box's wooden lid, she exposed a thing of great beauty and stunning craftsmanship. A longsword, light dancing along the high shine of the blade, its hilt comprised of a golden cross guard, a huge purple sapphire inset in a pommel shaped like a fiery sun, and a leather grip that looked as soft as butter. It lay with a scabbard of the same leather as the grip, a chape and locket at top and bottom carrying on the sun motif in gold.
“By the gods, Sir! Surely you've outdone yourself Mister Joakin!”
“You've not seen your equipment yet, Mister Bascombe,” he said slyly.
“Aha!” I declared, “you remembered my name, good Sir!”
“A true swordsman deserves to be remembered, Sir!” he replied, and I blushed. I was famous in Nez Ambríl all of a sudden. Word travels fast.
A black cloth was draped over a mannequin torso on a pole behind the counter and he uncovered it with a flourish. On it was a beautiful suit of torso, armor, and thigh armor, shining as if stars were captured in the metal itself.
“It's all mithril,” Joakin explained. “We've vertical metal splint on the chest, chainmail at the neck and abdomen, plate cuisses for the thighs, and banded mail on the arms for unfettered articulation. Wait ‘til it's on you! It weighs less than five pounds!”
Quickly getting me laced up in the thing I found it to be amazingly light, not restricting at all. And with my Bracers of Cat’s Grace, I moved like water. He had additionally made for me a skullcap style helmet, fur lined, with a spike at its crown to complete the outfit. Looking into a mirror, I must say it looked good on me.
Then it was time for the weapons. To both of our surprise, the rapier he had forged for me was identical to May’s longsword. Every detail mimicked. You could feel the magic coursing through the steel when you wrapped your hand around the soft grip.
And then, the crossbow. What had he done here? The thing was made of mahogany with mother of pearl inlays depicting wasps, their stingers sharp. All the metal, trigger, cocking mechanism, were gold. “It's called ‘Bite,’ Mister Bascombe. The bolts you'll fire from her sting with acid, a wound that keeps burning until it's doused. Horribly lethal. Especially in the abdomen. Just keeps burning away until ….”
May interrupted, “That's quite enough, Joakin! We've not yet had lunch. No visualization of the horror is necessary.”
It's okay, Sir, I'm familiar with the weapon already,” remembering my first day in Nez Ambríl.
Turning to me, she said, “Doff your armor, Sir , and let's get something to eat. I'm famished!”
While valets rushed off to take our things back to the Palace, May and I sat under a small bay tree eating cheese and bread with cider we got from one of the many pushcarts you see along the main thoroughfare, quietly wasting away the afternoon despite all that loomed about us.
image [https://i.imgur.com/uA2uB8p.jpeg]