I finally felt well rested the next time a knock came at my door. “Come! If it's unlocked!”
I threw my robe about myself as I saw it was not Greer, rather, it was Count Pelisir. I blushed at my mistake. One should be fully dressed for a noble!
“It's quite alright, Mister Bascombe. I gave Greer a quick break. You're quite fine. I just came to get you because the Swalesians are about to make their grand entrance.”
I suddenly realized that I should have been awake for this already. “My apologies, My Lord, I should have been dressed to meet you down there.”
“Again, Mister Bascombe, it's no worry. They are arriving much later than expected. I don't think you'll get to see their barges, but I'm sure their arrival here will be impressive enough.”
The Swalesians relied on slave labor for their trips upriver. The aforementioned barges being hundred foot long galleys rowed by slaves to the beat of drums and whips. An absolutely disgusting display. They had been told that anything to do with their institution of slavery wasn't welcome in Nez Ambríl, nor in the Taliswood at all. They had already ignored one condition of their participation, not counting the Assassin.
“It's said they ran into some Hobgoblin trouble coming through the swamps down in the South. Had to take a circuitous route through the fens.”
“Look, Mister Bascombe, get yourself pulled together and meet me where you stood for the Gnolls’ arrival. I'm eager to lay eyes on these horrid people.”
“Yes, My Lord, me as well. I've seen their ships in the harbor at Wikehold, in Sheerpoint Bay. Never met one though. Sorry, let me get dressed and I'll meet with you shortly.”
“Yes, Mister Bascombe, if you'll hold a moment, I've brought some more appropriate clothes for your wardrobe. Until we meet again, Sir!”
“Wait, what …” But he was gone and six junior valets came in my rooms with enough clothes for a month of formal events, filling my wardrobe and laying out an outfit, a gorgeous lavender linen tunic with a silver silk jacket, black breeches and gray hose, with black leather shoes of a softness so as to make slippers obsolete. The kit was made whole with the addition of a stunning silver pommeled rapier hung by fine silver chains from a broad black leather belt. Like Count Pelisir’s this pommel featured a fantastical gemstone. Utterly too big to be a diamond, the cost would be obscene, but by the gods what an exceptional bit of fakery!
I had to take a long look at myself in the mirror inside the door of my wardrobe. I cut a very fine figure if I do say so. The outfit matched my black hair and blue eyes well. That had to be a fake diamond.
I was escorted to the viewing area by four of the Palace Guard, their purple tabards with the seven pointed star stitched in white on their chests. They carried glaives that looked too elaborate to be anything other than ceremonial, yet their gleaming chainmail told me that they were ready for any eventuality. Their helms were topped with spikes that caught every bit of light that came their way, bouncing it about the corridor as we approached the pulley platform.
My stomach sank as I stepped onto the contraption. I could see through a gap how far up we were and I had to fight myself not to turn around, or worse, throw up.
One of the guards detected my hesitation and said, “Just look straight ahead, Sir. Be over before you know it.”
Noting his rank, I answered, “Thank you much, Lieutenant. That should do the trick. Are you permanently assigned to me?”
“Um, yes Sir, but I'm not supposed to be talking to you like this,” he whispered back.
“Ah, understood Lieutenant. My apologies and as you were. Thank you again, anyway.”
“Sir!” was his response. And his advice truly did help. I just focused on the little shops along the boardwalk across the way and we had settled down no sooner than I had thought about looking to the ground.
I had seen Sidra at her cafe but she didn't see me. I guess waving would have been awkward and perhaps someone would want to know how I knew her. I wouldn't want to cause trouble for her or the Count.
Count Pelisir was standing precisely where he said he would be. Greeting me warmly he said, “Now see, Bascombe? You definitely can look the part with some proper clothing. I know you're a bachelor, but you mustn't always look it!” He laughed at himself as he always did. I was a little embarrassed at being called out as having not dressed myself.
“My Lord, the clothes are splendid. They must have cost a fortune!”
“Ah, that they did Bascombe, that they did. I warn you though, if you misplace the Star of Innialín, it will be your hide!”
Seeing my confusion, he said “The diamond Mister Bascombe, the ever loving diamond! Surely you noticed?”
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I was speechless. A diamond that large would be worth half a million in gold at the very least. “My Lord, if you're not jesting, and I hope you are, I can't possi …”
“Hush, Mister Bascombe. Now there's an end to it. Rejecting gifts? Why a Goblin has better etiquette. You should be ashamed!” And he laughed heartily at his humor.
“What else have you accomplished today besides being in your cocoon? I know you were able to meet Mal'friq.”
“Yes, My Lord, we got along swimmingly. Very interesting character, that one.” I hesitated for a moment, not knowing if I should mention Mother Felistia. I really didn't want to hide anything from Count Pelisir, even as I told her I wouldn't say anything.
“I had a meeting with Mother Felistia as well. Also a most wonderful person.”
He looked into my eyes, almost angrily, “Impossible, Sir! She's in Ilníst for the rest of this week! Wanted to be away from all the spying and assassinating and what not!”
“I assure you, My Lord, why would I make up such a thing?”
“Did anyone else see her Bascombe? Think!”
“Well, of course, My Lord, Greer took me to see her in the Chapel.”
Turning to my guard, he barked. “Get Greer, straightaway, and bring him here with utmost speed!” The lieutenant I had spoken with earlier double timed back to the pulley platform to fetch Greer.
He looked thoughtful, “Maybe she snuck back in for a chance to meet with you. I could be mistaken.” He bade me describe her and allowed that it was a perfect description, even down to her mannerisms, and that ring.
The next few moments were really very tense as we awaited Greer’s arrival. When he finally did appear, Count Pelisir held him by the shoulders and asked directly, “Have you seen Mother Felistia, Greer?”
Greer’s response chilled me, “Of course not, My Lord. She's in Ilníst. Are you feeling okay?”
I interjected, “Greer, who did you take me to see in the Chapel this afternoon?”
My jaw dropped when he said, “Why, it was the Queen, Sir, Queen May! What goes on here?”
“And Queen May was with me the whole afternoon,” said the Count, “discussing the Swalesian issue. You both have been played!”
He was pacing the paving stones. “Dammit! It was likely Mag'stula herself casting illusions. From now on, you go nowhere without me.”
Giving Greer a blistering gaze, he said “You're slipping, Good Sir! You couldn't detect the illusion? Nevermind, you obviously neglected to try. She tricked you with a child's spell!”
“Now see here…” I felt I should defend Greer. He was but an old Elf after all, but Count Pelisir gave me a withering gaze and put his finger to my lips to quiet me. “Remember your place, Mister Bascombe! You probably should know now that this has happened, that Greer here is using the same spell. We sent the real Greer on holiday to the High Elf city of Nez Clarë so that we could proceed with this ruse while you were here.”
He was whispering through gritted teeth. “The Elf before you is Ördelon, our greatest Wizard! As powerful as Mag'stula, yet she has come in and gotten past him with a damned parlor trick!”
Just then, the great Silver Gate began to open to trumpets blaring and drums beating thunderously.
Count Pelisir's gaze went back and forth between the two of us, Greer, or Ördelon I should say, and me. “We'll discuss this later, Ördelon! You're dismissed!”
Bringing his eyes back to me, he said “I can't fault you for this, Mister Bascombe. Ördelon, on the other hand, will feel my displeasure I assure you! This is unconscionable! Okay,” he breathed deeply, in and out a few times, “now let me get my pleasant face back on.”
And just like that, he was affable and welcoming Count Pelisir once more. “You too, Mister Bascombe!” he said as he reached into my beautiful jacket to tickle my ribs.
I was caught completely off guard, giggling like a child as I protested. He quickly pulled his hand away. “Now, you look the part again. We must present the Swalesian delegation with a face showing little concern. We're quite happy they're here!”
The trumpets sounded behind us once again as they did that morning while Queen May was being lowered. Radiant as usual.
I'm guessing there were 100 soldiers ahead and behind the carriage of Prince Anoresti. All large Human males wearing lamellar armor with scarlet tabards showing a golden fist, their helmets like spiked metal caps tied up in scarlet turbans, the late afternoon sun reflecting off of the rows of poleaxes, all of it moving in perfect rhythm.
Queen May had arrived at her mark as the Prince's carriage pulled up to his mark. A young valet jumped down from the footboard to open the carriage door with utmost ceremony. The carriage’s window coverings had thus far been drawn, allowing no one a sight of the Prince.
As the door gently opened, a white stockinged leg capped with a bejewelled black slipper swung out onto the carriage's steps. There were breeches of golden brocade, followed by an arm clothed the same, and finally, the Prince fully emerged.
He wore no crown, his longish black hair rustling against itself in the light wind. His complexion was lightly swarthy, like amber perhaps, his eyes blue. He was neither tall nor short, light not heavy, perfectly average but a good looking man to be certain. He had a reputation for that. Possibly why he was the representative here today.
Outpacing his personal guard, he walked briskly up to Queen May who tittered lightly at the sight of the soldiers rushing behind the man. He bowed deeply before her and she gave a minor curtsy in response. He leaned forward to whisper something in her ear, and I felt Count Pelisir bristle. He wasn't behind her as he was this morning. It was just the monarch and the monarch-to-be standing on that paved path.
Again, the tittering and Prince Anoresti smiled at his effect on the woman. As with the morning’s reception, Queen May extended her arm toward the Royal Palace, inviting the Prince to his rooms.
Count Pelisir spoke hotly, “And now that that's over! Come with me, Mister Bascombe. We need to take care of a few things before we sup.”
We stepped quickly back to the pulley platform, and on to what I assumed were the Count’s private rooms. I had the feeling I was in trouble and was being called to the headmaster's office.
image [https://i.imgur.com/rm8kZyX.jpeg]