Ch: 245 I’m Gonna Set Your Flag On Fire
Empress Gabriella the thirtieth of her line, sighed quietly behind her veil; this meeting seemed to have taken on a life of its own. Young, unsure and showing it, even through her veil and elaborately arranged and embellished robes, the empress struggled valiantly to hide her growing discomfort and displeasure.
The imperial regalia weighed heavily and pinched even more abominably than usual today, while the cold, golden seat of her cubic throne wrought its own unpleasantness on the Divine empress’s bottom.
“We fail to grasp the essence of your problem… high pontiff Luxor. Our orphans are sprouting Contracts, somehow?” She demanded sternly, as she struggled to find a slightly less chilly spot on the idiotic block of frigid gold.
She silently cursed whichever of her ancestors had decided that an unyielding hunk of precious metal was just the thing for perching on, during interminable, blathering lectures.
“That is the issue… Moreover, we; the clerics of your eminences’ court… we do not recognize the art behind these Contracts! They manifest, seemingly overnight, fully bound and sealed, we cannot even assay them correctly!” She fumed angrily, an emotional display that was highly unusual from the pontiff of Order’s church.
She pitched her voice more softly, almost whispering. “We do not recognize the form of the Contracts bound to them, nor can we dissolve these bonds! It’s becoming a serious problem, all across your empire!”
“How so? It would seem that Contracting them earlier and getting my warriors trained with their gifts would be a tremendous boon.” The empress answered calmly. “What say you, general Tully? Is War also displeased with whatever this is?”
“Resplendent empress… None of the orphans so Contracted have been bound to War. The Bloodwashed One is silent on this matter… So I cannot speculate, but I am certain, none of this stock has been inducted into the church of War.” The grizzled old lord in robes of deep scarlet and golden braid seemed deeply shaken; his sagging, liver spotted face quivering with barely suppressed outrage.
The empress glared at the three priests in discontent. “Where are Joy and Healer?” She demanded archly. “Are they so distraught they could not even attend this meeting?”
“Radiant empress… The churches of Cowl and Dana have declined to even recognize the problem! George and Kara seemed excited by this trouble!” Old Tully almost shouted in his fury. “Thus, we excluded them from this meeting.”
“We find that unacceptable, general Tully. In future meetings, I would hear all sides.” Gabriella struggled valiantly to maintain her composure, while her underthings really dug in. “Order, what say you?”
“Neither has Order received any of these bonds.” Luxor said quietly, once more in command of her emotions. “Order too, remains silent and provides no guidance… that is even more troubling.” Her lower lip trembled slightly as she spoke, betraying her disciplined appearance. The ancient pontiff of Order seemed more frail and shaken than Gabriella had ever seen her.
“Craft also remains silent.” Artificer Greggor frowned his wrinkled, dried apple face into an even less pleasant expression of distaste when his ruler’s eyes fell on him in silent demand. “We have received some scattered and unreliable reports from the north…”
Both War and Order turned on the Craft priest with sudden and startling anger. “That information is not yet confirmed…” Order hissed in fury. “Wild speculation and unfounded rumors!”
“Silence.” The empress said softly, bringing an end to the fracas. “What has Craft to share, artificer supreme Greggor?”
“Your radiance… Craft remains silent… Yet I have received word; from a member of a foreign branch of my church…” He mumbled awkwardly.
“Tell us what you have learned, Greggor. We would hear this ‘wild speculation’ of yours.” She said firmly.
“And then summon Joy and Healer. I would hear their wisdom and opinions as well, if the gods will not provide guidance.”
Order and War fumed in silence, while Craft spoke at length; he spun a fantastical fable, describing a madman who fell from the sky, bringing utter chaos and disorder wherever he stepped.
“So this lone orphan lad wandered in from the wastes and overthrew this ‘Craft priest Theophus’? One orphan boy took over this barbarian’s Craft cult and chased him from the Twelve Duchies, entirely?” The empress asked gently. “And you think this is worthy of our attention?”
“Eminence… Radiant empress… I queried Craft with my strongest divination arts, the only reply my god would give was: ‘Avoid Gary Ward’ and nothing more.” The priest blushed a mottled red under the furious glares of his peers and continued on.
“I found this divine guidance less than encouraging, since that was the name my informant called his mysterious nemesis. Naturally, I asked my counterpart from the temple of Joy…”
Order coughed into her clenched fist very loudly, clearly an attempt to derail the old artificer. The geezer shrugged and kept speaking, softly and earnestly, in the face of his peers’ resistance. “I would not speak for Joy’s church, but Kara seemed deeply pleased by the entire distressing mess.”
“And yet they were ‘excluded’ from this meeting? By whose authority?” The young empress asked quietly. “We should hear their perspectives on this, since three of my highest clerics are unable to divine their gods’ will or provide guidance.”
A palace functionary slipped from the chamber on silent felt slippers and vanished, sprinting for the temple annex, once he was beyond her radiances’ sight.
When the young sprinter returned he slowed again, to a sedate pace of idyllic calm, an instant before he came under the empress’ gaze. She acknowledged him with the most miniscule nod of her veiled head and the subtle raising of her left pinkie finger.
“Radiant Empress… Kara of Joy and George of Healer will arrive momentarily, may your glory be sung from all the rooftops of the empire!” He gasped, gazing at her sandaled foot peeking from the hem of her robe; a sign of her imperial majestie’s approval that made the young attendant’s heart flutter with happiness.
#
The bright blue dog cart came rumbling out of the garden gate into bright morning sunshine and the songs of birds; rolling along with happy children peering over the sides, in excitement. The ‘adults’ of the group formed around the cart, lightly armored, but heavily armed. Spears and other weapons bristled from the group, as befitted an expedition into the unknown.
Only the musician and his giantess went unarmed and unarmored, wielding musical instruments instead. Music swelled from the little cart and the strange, enormous duo who walked alongside, playing their weird instruments and smiling, as the mighty red dog pulled the little wagon onto the mountain trail leading up the volcano’s slopes. They waved to the old man who was out behind his cottage tending his garden paddies.
Canalmaster Arenjay waded to the edge, hopped down from his gardening clogs, slipped into a pair of sturdy boots, picked up a bamboo staff and fell in line with the marching kids.
“Master Aranjay, this contract is not without some risk…” Liam said quietly to the following geezer. “We will be facing an entity from beyond our world…”
“I’m an old man… death comes for me soon in any case, I’ll not be missing this show for the world!” He huffed in dusty annoyance. “Starved for gossip and entertainment out here, lad! You kids are the most interesting thing I’ve seen in a few decades.” He stretched and made every joint in his wizened, scrawny body pop. “Besides, I haven’t felt this frisky in years! The local hotsprings are all around Crater Lake, so they’re off limits by her grace’s orders.”
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“So no one’s been up there since the order came down?” Becky asked.
“Can’t say that… Mmm, this music is catchy!” The old canal man murmured happily as he marched along beside the cart, having firmly inserted himself into the group. “Every once in a while, I catch sight of someone moving on the crater lip… Strange people with lanterns scurrying about in the night.”
“You never investigated?” Tallum rumbled. “Sounds suspicious.”
“I reported it to the civic guard, they came out a few times, but never approached the inner crater or the lake. Nobody wants to get eaten by a… what is it, anyway?” Arenjay murmured happily.
“Tentacles.” Liam said firmly. “We are certain of nothing, beyond that it has many tentacles and is intelligent.”
“Oh…” The old man seemed suddenly far less enthusiastic. “It’s smart? I knew about the squidlyness of it, but if it’s more than an animal...”
“We plan on resolving this peacefully, master Aranjay. If you want to witness the action, you are going to have to follow our lead. No violence until we say.” Gary snapped at the geezer, speaking directly to him for the first time.
“Don’t misapprehend me lad… I’m a canal man, my gifts involve moving soil and water around and pushing boats. I leave violence to Adventurers and War!” He snorted with old timey, grandfatherly derision. “If I see trouble, I’m hopping in this cart, grabbing your kids and riding down the mountain like a madman.”
“Don’t worry… We’ll look after you.” Rio placed a comforting hand on the old man’s shoulder, from his seat on the driver’s bench.
“Gary’s pretty good with tenanacle people!” Amy agreed happily.
“Amy, don’t tell our new friend weird things, ok?” Becky scolded the little blue songbird gently. “Though, they are correct, we will look after you and this creature will likely be little threat, once we make contact with it.”
Something about the lightly armored young woman seemed sincere and deeply confident, easing the old man’s nerves despite her stature and youth.
“You lot really are Adventurers…” The canalmaster mumbled softly, as he looked over the small cluster of odd youngsters with new eyes.
“That’s what it says on our badges!” Amy sang happily at the sky, her head thrown back to embrace the sunshine.
Arenjay scooted a simple, shuffling dance step from his distant youth and smiled, as the music all around took hold of him.
“What were that step, canalmaster?” The red haired giantess demanded gently, from the other side of the dog cart. As though conjured by his brief dance, suddenly she was by his side, emulating his footwork.
The old fart grinned and gave a lecherous wink at the pretty girls and started into an intricate and deceptively smooth shuffle step, dancing beside the smiling giantess, the small, dark girl and all three tiny tots. “Not much space on a barge deck, gotta stay inside yer own shadow as ye dance…” He told the tiny blue girl, who was currently standing on his toes, learning the steps in the ancient way.
A scant ten minutes later, when he traded Amy for Wilf, landing the burly toddler on the well trodden toes of his shoes, the old man looked out over the valley and gasped in surprise. They were nearly halfway up the volcano, having danced tirelessly up the steep, switchbacked trail cut into the stone. A quarter mile away, as the sparrow flies he saw his own cottage, so far below them. The sight made the old man stumble out of the rhythm and nearly fall on his butt. Only the surprising strength of Wilford’s grip kept the old canal man from falling to the road.
“We go fast…” The burly toddler said, through a radiant smile that seemed to warm the old man just as much as the bright springtime sunshine. Wilf gently stepped back on his new friend’s toes and started following the steps with a serious expression on his once more somber face. “We gotta keep up…”
Arenjay took the boy’s hands and shrugged. A quick glance up the road revealed the rest of the group, slowly dancing in place, waiting for the old man and his trio of dance students to catch back up. The ginger woman was already at the front of the group, instructing her silly musician the new step she’d just mastered; while embellishing it with her own hip wiggling flair.
#
George of Healer and Kara of Joy arrived after a suitably brief recess, allowing the empress time to digest the tale Craft’s cleric had unloaded on her.
“Chocolate, you say?” She asked over her teacup’s rim, as the two aged clerics entered her audience chamber. Her divine radiance had a tea tray of lacquered golden boxwood on the imperial lap, enjoying a well deserved treat, while her priests and priestesses stood awkwardly and waited.
“Yes, eminence. My informant tells me that this new… confection is in some way related to this creature.” He answered with distaste. “I eschew sweets, myself.”
“Oh? Do you?” The empress asked calmly, as she dabbed at a small speck of melted chocolate on her lips. “I find this new chocolate more compelling and convincing than your tales of magic boys and barbarian Craft cults.”
She clapped her golden gloved hands softly, summoning her personal handmaiden. “Fetch some of this new confectionery for my clerics, since artificer Greggor claims it to be part and parcel in this mad tale.”
Functionaries ‘scrambled’ to set a table and chairs, including a well upholstered seat for her imperial self. With deceptively slow and graceful movements and in near total silence, her servants laid out the table and vanished back to the tapestry draped corners of the elegant chamber. Her maids arrived shortly after, performing their duties with similar elegant and gentle efficiency.
Empress Gabriella surveyed the spread with a jaundiced eye. There were cookies, cakes, scones and cream puffs aplenty, but little of the new chocolate she had requested. A small silver pot of ‘Hot Chocolate’ accompanied by the requisite tiny nuggets of sweet white sponge rested on an elaborate tray, surrounded by a few bonbons and a small bar of shiny, dark chocolate.
“Emmie, where is the chocolate?” She asked gently.
“Forgive me, radiant empress, ruler of my heart…” Her chief handmaiden whispered desperately, even as she sank to the floor and abased herself at her ruler’s feet. “This is all that can be had.”
“This is all that we have?” She asked gently, while stepping close enough that the trembling girl could reach out and touch the hem of her glorious robe. The girl lying face down on the cold waxed stone floor gasped with dismay and tried to press herself flatter to the stones, when the imperial regalia actually brushed her outflung hand. “There is no more in the palace?”
“Truly, my beloved empress… this is all that can be found in the imperial city.” She whispered desperately.
“Rise Emmie, I hold no blame for you in this debacle…” The imperial gaze slowly swept the room, seeking her lord chamberlain. She spotted him, hiding in his shadowy corner, behind a tapestry of blossoming plum trees.
“Lord Curlew, why has no more been acquired? Moreover, why is your empress required to address a grocery dilemma?”
During that brief moment, Emmie managed to gracefully arise and vanish behind an ink painted silk screen; the one depicting a twisted pine clinging to a wind lashed, stoney outcropping, above a storm tossed sea. All in simple black ink and composed in dramatic, sweeping brush strokes; that painting always evoked a sense of grim determination in the young empress.
With renewed conviction and no little annoyance, her eyes snapped back to her chamberlain, who was now sprawled at her feet in Emmie’s place. “Explain, if you can, lord Curlew.”
With an audible gulp, the portly, middle aged lord gasped out an apology that landed on uncaring ears. The empress did perk up when he continued gabbling on.
“...an emissary has been sent to the rumored source to acquire more… Jocomo of the imperial diplomatic service is en route to this ‘Wheatfield’ place even now! I dispatched him with urgent commands, when your radiance expressed a fondness for the samples I acquired… at great personal expense!”
One hand, raised slowly and gracefully, silenced the chattering lord instantly. “You sent my first assassin… to fetch me more chocolate?” She asked coldly.
“Yes, majesty?” He gasped, tremulous and blotchy even by his own usual high standards for spottiness.
“Are you asking me?” Gabriella demanded ungently. “What orders did you give poor Jocomo… My own blood drenched left hand… before you sent him out into the world?”
“I… I instructed him to acquire a quantity of this ‘Sweet Tooth’ chocolate and arrange an uninterrupted supply for your radiance…” He sputtered into the gleaming marble of the floor. “That is all! I swear it!”
“To be clear…” She whispered softly to the trembling lord. “You dispatched my first assassin to fetch candy from a distant barbarian land… With no additional instructions or constraints on his actions…” She stared down at the blubbering lord, while her clerics watched in absolute silence.
“Yes, Empress Divine and Unquestioned, I did.” He said at last.
“General Tully, have this fool removed to the fringe. Make him quartermaster of some backwater supply station where he can’t get anyone killed or escape, should his judgment be as flawed as we fear...” Empress Gabriella snapped. “If Jocomo slays anyone, it will be you who will answer for it, citizen Curlew.” Her final declaration sent the man gibbering with fear, while simultaneously stripping him of his titles.
“Begone, citizen Curlew.. and someone find my new chamberlain. We must do all in our power to recall Jocomo, before he does something… regrettable in our name.” She turned back to her clerics with far greater confidence and took her seat at the table.
“Let us resume, now that at least one crisis has been resolved.” She declared firmly, once seated and holding a delicate porcelain bowl, filled with steaming ‘Hot Chocolate’ from the northern barbarian lands and topped with tiny bits of sweet white fuff. “These ‘Mini Marshmallows’ really are delightful…” She whispered to Kara of Joy with a scandalous wink of the imperial eye.
#
Across the shallow sea, on a narrow road through a dense wetland forest, two towering willows stood on either side of a deep, slow flowing river.
At some point in the distant past, some sentient agency had cultivated the long gnarled roots and swaying fronds into a bridge across the river, joining the two trees in a gently arching structure of extraordinary beauty and impossibility.
The figure in robes of deepest red black took in the glorious sight in all its understated natural and unnatural beauty. Blooming lily pads graced the slow moving water, while tall reeds stood sentry at the banks. Fish frogs and birds sang a hymn to nature and spring in the natural cathedral all around. Jocomo paused for a moment, savoring a very special moment of peace and tranquility. The shrouded warrior’s life held few unmarred moments of pleasure; so he was unsurprised when a figure stepped from beneath the willow on the near bank to challenge him.
That it was a small, nude woman with dark hair and laughing eyes was a surprise, however. “Spirit, you cannot harm me, please do not interfere with my journey.” He called out, before things could get any more awkward.
“It is you who have entered my realm, young mortal. A friend asked that I speak to you, to prevent any misunderstandings.” Willow answered calmly, amused by this robed person.
An instant later, a brief sensation of searing pain ripped through her breast, followed by another. Tiny iron projectiles flew from the robed figure’s hands, shredding her body into fallen leaves and a few twigs.
“My duty calls me onward, my apologies, poor spirit.” He made a brief and heartfelt bow to the small pile of leaf litter and broken twigs that were her remains.
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