Lord Ramon Elkring, Ruler of the Hallowed Realm, Warden of the Coast, the Eastlands, Xith and the Deepwood, Head of the Oaken Court, and Victor at Stallwinds Crest looked at himself in the mirror as Vered, his tailor, adjusted his tunic. He was about to address the court today, the full court. It had been a long time since the full court had been assembled, he’d only been a boy then, back when the Pirate Kings were sweeping in from the sea and they’d needed to drive them back. Since then there hadn’t been anything important enough to call the whole court.
There had been his inauguration of course but some of the court members were untroubled by the changing of kings and refused to answer summons like that.
Then there had been Wyrous, a barbarian out of the Eastlands who had amassed a formidable army and seemed unstoppable, wiping out ancient families who had held strong against the Eastlanders for centuries. The Rently’s, unshaken by raids for the last fifty years had all but disappeared before him. Then he’d driven the Caragar forces back to Carahall, only stopping when a mysterious noble girl offered him a marriage alliance and he’d ceased his plundering. The Caragars had still been furious though and had insisted on warring with him but they were denied their revenge when he mysteriously died and peace was forced back upon the land.
Then further trouble had arisen out of the Eastlands in the form of various sorcerers. That whole business had been even more mysterious as far as Ramon was concerned, supposedly there had been three of them running around at one point which was unheard of and would have definitely merited summoning the whole court had it turned out to be true. Apparently they’d all disappeared as suddenly as they’d appeared implying that they were naught but rumours, which were far more common than sorcerers anyway.
But now there was the issue of Lord Farro and his uprising. He called it the Grand Uprising and Ramon was hearing that description more and more often among his own men. At first it had seemed like nothing significant, another small coalition of lords who were displeased with the direction he was taking the kingdom. They thought he should have been more tough on Wyrous and the sorcerers, they thought their taxes were too high, they thought the weather was miserable. He really wasn’t sure what some of their complaints were but he hadn’t been too concerned, sending only a small force to deal with them. That small force hadn’t come back.
So he’d raised up an army, calling in lords and their men from around the land. Weapons and armour had been built and men had been conscripted from across the land. Then things had started to go wrong. Lord Sturken, one of Farro’s allies had taken Raharus, a stronghold of a city built in ancient times to defend against monsters of the Deepwood. The city had fallen much faster than expected and Lord Sturken had rushed out to meet them despite Farro warning him to wait for their full force to be ready.
Ramon’s army had defeated Sturken at Stallwinds Crest but it had been a narrow thing and Farro’s army was much bigger. Then his son, the fearsome Knight of Tongues, had angered the best blacksmith they’d had and then they’d both disappeared, chasing each other into the forest or something, Ramon wasn’t exactly sure.
Vered finished straightening the tunic and stepped back. Ramon nodded to him and they walked out to face the Oaken Court.
The Oaken Court is so named for the great oak tree that grows through the centre of Castle Elkring, the windows and stone walls built seamlessly around it. It isn’t dead but it hasn’t moved or grown in centuries, frozen in place by some magic. The throne room ceiling is covered with its weaving branches and leaves while the roots stretch somewhere far below. Two old women hobbled into the court and took seats, they are Mother Magda and Gushkabel, two of the wisest witches in the Hallowed Realm. They are joined by Sireth, the head ranger from the Deepwood, usually he prefers to stand in the corner where he can see the whole room but today he has matters to discuss with them.
“A fiefling raged through the Deepwood not three days ago,” he said quietly.
“A fiefling?” Magda asked incredulous. “Are you sure?”
“You told me fieflings were a myth,” Gushkabel said to her fellow witch.
“I thought they were, are you sure it wasn’t just a particularly bad fire?”
Sireth unwrapped something from his cloak and the witches eyes went wide. It was a small lithe body not much bigger than the hand that held it made of burnt wood and ash. The dead body of a fiefling.
Magda took it and wrapped it up in her own cloak. “This is valuable, extremely valuable.”
“Why would there be a fiefling in the Deepwood?” Gushkabel asked.
“Raqos, the Fire Lord, is stirring. I will have to look into this.”
Behind the three huddled on their seats the door is flung open and Gurren Skreed, Master of Ships, strolled in forcefully, his excessive blue cape billowing behind him. A notorious pirate in his youth Gurren was still distrusted by many. Magda bundled away the fiefling’s corpse further into her cloak. Gurren ignored the ranger and witches and strode over to Eyr Ragoth, the beautiful Queen of Xith who faced him with her cold eyes. Long had Gurren wanted a marriage alliance with her but she was already married, not that that deterred him very much.
“My Lady,” he began. “I hear you have been crowned Queen recently, I apologise for not attending the ceremony as I was not informed.”
“There was no ceremony,” she said quietly.
Gurren gasped. “No ceremony! Oh but you must have a ceremony, this is an exchange of power, an important part of history. I shall throw you a ceremony. I shall come to Xith and bring feasts and musicians and jugglers and servants and we shall throw the greatest ceremony your castle has ever seen.”
Eyr was not impressed but sadly for her Gurren was not concerned by this and continued describing his ceremony.
Meanwhile the other Royal Masters entered together and moved off to sit by themselves. Gurren embarrassed them and they took every opportunity to distance themselves as much as possible. This time though they weren’t concerned with him and were much more concerned with the war. They had been planning and organising things all day, in their view they didn’t need the rest of the court, concerned as they were with magics and fell creatures. In the end they figured it was them who had to find the money and the men and organise the army and feed it and keep everyone working together while the others all messed about with their strange ideas.
They were right in the middle of a heated conversation concerning the transport of men from Castle Caragar to Castle Huskron when they noticed Peppers, the Queen of Fools, listening to their conversation. They noticed her because she stuck her painted face between theirs and looked from one to the other, the bells on her hat jangling.
As little as they respected the other members of the court they respected Peppers less and they were not shy about saying so. Peppers just grinned maniacally at their insults and laughed, bouncing away on the balls of her feet.
They’d gotten through one more sentence of discussion before Deagon Collett, Master of Coin, noticed that all ten of his rings were missing and groaned in annoyance before following Peppers to get them back. When he caught up with her she held up the rings and smiled.
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“If you want them back you’re going to have to do something for me,” she said happily.
Deagon rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”
Peppers thought about it much harder than was probably necessary. Deagon had never seen someone put so much effort into just thinking. “I want you to sell all of the mines in the Black Mountains to raise funds for our little war.” She tapped her nose as though the war shaking the realm was just a secret between the two of them.
Deagon snorted in derision, then thought about the suggestion, looking for anything wrong with it. “Um... Nobody wants to buy those mines, they haven’t been profitable for years.” He smiled to himself, that was true, no way was he taking a fool’s suggestion.
Peppers just smiled wider. “Oh but those mines have far more than just precious minerals in them. There’s picks and shovels and guards all bristling with weapons. Not to mention they all look very easy to defend.”
Deagon frowned. “You think someone would want to hide in them?”
“There is a war going on. I’m sure you could find some wealthy merchants who’d love to have their own guards and mountain fortresses.”
Deagon snatched back his rings, some of them fell to the floor and he scowled. “I’ll consider it.” He picked up his rings and walked back to the others, cursing the fool for thinking of an idea to raise money before he thought of it.
The doors swung open once more and Lord Ramon Elkring walked in followed by Vered the tailor. He wasn’t just a tailor though, he was the king’s principle advisor as well as the Master of the Court. It was him who was in charge of sending for all of them wherever they might be. Deagon wondered where he found some of these people, Peppers for example.
Ramon sat on the throne and the others filed into their seats. Vered looked at them all and scowled at Magda.
“I did not summon you,” he said thinly.
“She comes with me,” Gushkabel said. “Think of her as an... apprentice.”
Magda’s eyes grew wide in annoyance but everyone ignored her.
Vered shrugged. “Very well, we are still missing one though. Where is Willow?”
Nobody answered, Vered scowled.
“The hour grows late Vered,” the King said from his throne. “We begin now, Willow will come.”
Vered nodded and retreated to his seat. People began speaking over each other before he got there.
“We must face Farro as soon as possible before he-”
“We must bide our time, we can’t-”
“There are disturbing reports from-”
“So as I was saying, this ceremony-”
“Silence!” Vered screamed and they quieted. “It has been a long time since this court has met, some of you have never been with us before. We have an order with which we must do things.”
There were nods of agreement and mutterings of assent. This was no way to conduct a meeting of this importance.
“You will speak one at a time and allow each other to speak, but first, the King.”
“Thank you Vered,” Ramon said sagely. “As you all know Lord Farro has mustered a significant army. One far greater than any of us expected, so you are all gathered here to offer whatever help you can in preventing this kingdom from falling into his hands. Gushkabel, what do your totems say?”
The court looked to Gushkabel who did not look pleased. “My totems were destroyed in the Fire of Karasar. I can no longer see the future with much clarity.”
“You’d not be able to see the future at all without my help,” Magda muttered but was silenced by a withering glare from Vered.
“Well that’s something, what can you see in the future?”
“Nothing that helps us with this war.”
“If I may speak,” Deagon began and no one stopped him. “Relying on these prophecies and totems seems far from reliable. We should be discussing matters of logistics. We have men to move, to arm, to train. Can these totems help with that?”
Gushkabel shook her head. “Not the totems we possess.”
Magda’s hand curled around the lump in her cloak with the fiefling. They didn’t possess any totems yet, but they could make one now. It wouldn’t be useful for training though, only for destruction.
“You shouldn’t discount magic too readily Coinmaster,” Queen Eyr said quietly. “If Farro has access to anything magical we will want magic of our own to combat it.”
Ramon nodded. “Yes, what can the forces of Xith provide us my Lady?”
“We have various... creatures. Those can be used in war to great effect, they are being outfitted now. As for magic we have none that extends beyond the borders of our castle and that is far from any path Farro will take.”
“What sort of creatures?” Gurren asked curiously. They had all heard the myths of the monsters of Xith and many of them were curious to hear which ones were true.
Queen Eyr just shrugged. “You will see.”
“Well I have no magic,” Peppers said happily. “But I hear there’s a lot of magic going on in the Deepwood.” She looked at Sireth.
Sireth looked uncomfortable. “The Deepwood was set on fire by something magical. It was unrelated to Farro though.”
“How bad was the damage?” Vered asked.
“Well the fire itself was looking fairly unstoppable, the magic that drove it was powerful. But then half the trees in the forest were turned to stone by some other magic. I’m still looking into both but I am confident neither of them were related to Farro, and I am similarly confident that neither of them will be much use to us.”
“Bah,” Bariel, the Master of Arms cried. “All this talk of magic is getting us nowhere. It’s all destroyed or hidden away or unreliable! What use is this to us?”
“That is the sad nature of magic my friend,” Vered said. “But if Farro has any magic of his own, especially anything powerful enough to affect the Deepwood, we will need magic to combat it.”
“Fortunately our spies and reports indicate that he has nothing magical whatsoever,” the King said. “Only men and weapons and those are all things we can handle, things that behave, reliably.”
There was a collective sigh of relief across the room. Even Peppers seemed happier which hadn’t seemed possible. Then the doors behind them slammed open again and a voice rang out.
“No.” They spun to see a tall thin woman walking toward them. “Farro does have magic.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Gurren asked, reverting to his pirate’s tongue.
“Yes,” Vered said thinly, walking toward their visitor. “I’m afraid you must be in the wrong place as the only other person who should be here is Willow and you are clearly not her.”
“Willow is dead,” the woman said harshly.
Vered looked shocked. “How did-?”
“She felt her own death coming and so she left my castle to live out her last days in the Eastlands. There Kulrod found her and tortured her into revealing how his magic sword worked.” The woman glared at Gushkabel. “If only someone with powerful magic had stopped him before he’d gotten that sword.”
Gushkabel decided she didn’t like this woman.
The woman looked back at Vered. “I am the Witch Queen Nath and I represent Willow and the East and I have come to tell you that Farro does indeed possess magic.”
“What sort of magic?” the King asked.
“A totem? A sorcerer?” Gushkabel asked. “Some sort of weapon?”
“No,” Nath replied. “A phoenix.”
The witches drew back in surprise. Magda clutched her fiefling even tighter. Eyr looked curious and everyone else looked confused.
“What does that mean?” the King asked.
“It means,” Gushkabel said slowly. “That we may have bigger problems than just a Grand Uprising.”
Ashwyn had been a unicorn once, a noble guardian of the Deepwood, blessed by the Fae Gods of Spring and Glade. Then her horn had been torn from her head by the fiefling and her skin had been burned by its fires. Now she didn’t know what she was but she felt a great kinship with this man. This man who was lying bleeding beneath a pile of corpses on an abandoned battlefield. She pushed the corpses off with her nose and hooves and dragged the man out. He looked dead. He was dead in fact. Cut down by the Knight of Tongues just days ago. Ashwyn had been separated from him in the battle and it had taken her this long, nosing through all the piles of corpses to find him again. She nosed his head and breathed on him. Whinnying right into his face.
Very slowly he opened his eyes, but they weren’t eyes anymore, just glowing orbs of fire. The Ash Knight died, killed mundanely by the Knight of Tongues on the battlefield. But dying mundanely is only the first step in the life cycle of the phoenix. Duren climbed to his feet, heat radiating off him. Now it was time to rise from the ashes.