Dolwillen felt sick. It wasn’t the noise, the people, food, or drink, it was the sight of the thing on the dais.

Disgusting. How could such a creature share the same origin as I? The goat, however, is fascinating. Life magic heralds many possibilities. It will take a little work to persuade Guntard of its merits. Gailing that, I can squeeze Guntard’s heartstone until he agrees.

The King’s new announcement is irrelevant. I’ve no intention of meeting his requirements, rather there are three key persons I need to back me. The Duke of Næss, Helȝas Engram; the Marchioness of Wilddéorcynn, Audovera Quillinane; and the Earl of Winterdún, Leofwin Vyvyan.

Dolwillen shuddered, time to mingle.

He downed a passing beer from a faceless servant and tossed the empty leather flagon on the closest table. The guests surrounding hurled abusive stares at him. Dolwillen stroked Beceorfan’s hilt and sauntered off.

Helȝas held the largest international trade hub, Cynehláfordes Port; Leofwin controlled the mouth of the Tayflód; Audovera owned the Earn Tor iron mines. They held almost as much influence as Dolwillen did with his Mánfeld grain fields and Héorefeld, a large town within his territory which held the central position between Cynehláfordes Port, Tégemýðe, and Éabrig.

Dolwillen took advantage of the walrus ivory scales sewn into his goatskin doublet to weather the elbows of the noble masses. It was a most wonderful outfit; close enough to armour to insult the King yet sufficiently clothing-like to get away with it. At long last, Dolwillen spotted one of his three targets, Earl Leofwin Vyvyan. A beautiful woman stood by his side.

The Earl wore a shin length, green silk bliaut, an ermine belt, pointed, silver, velvet slippers, and dark blue hose. The gold signet ring on the Earl’s left little finger flashed repeatedly as Leofwin continued to wave his hands in wide circles. He appeared quite drunk.

“Ah! Dolwillen. Welcome, welcome,” said Leofwin. He seemed determined to attract the gaze of everyone in the room. Dolwillen wished Leofwin would speak a little quieter.

“Good evening, Leofwin.”

“The ravishing beauty next to me is-”

The woman placed her index finger against Leofwin’s lips, “I am quite sure the Duke of Mánfeld knows who I am, Leo.”

“Of course, of course,” said Leofwin, nodding. His shoulder length, wavy blond hair bobbed up and down. He sipped red wine from a silver goblet and tittered. It was loud, high pitched, and irritating.

“Lady Quillinane, a pleasure,” said Dolwillen.

“Likewise, your Grace.” Audovera twirled. Her knee length, scarlet bliaut flared, gracing the crowd with a flash of her cream silk undertunic. There were several gasps, but Dolwillen just blinked.

Audovera pouted, “You never did rise to the bait, your Grace.” A white gauze pelisse hung from her shoulders and gold necklace, set with emeralds, fit close to her neck. White hose and pale yellow slippers completed her outfit.

“Marvellous Vera, absolutely marvellous,” said Leofwin. He repeatedly patted the tips of his right hand against the palm of his left, almost spilling his wine.

Audovera tossed her head and preened. Black, tight ringlets flowed across her back as she swished her head from side to side.

What am I supposed to do here?

Audovera was fifty-two, but looked about thirty-five. She was a mother of three, but behaved like she was twenty or younger, and if he didn’t say something nice, there would be no chance of winning her support. Dolwillen tucked his left hand into his doublet’s pocket and rubbed his thumb against the heartstone, hoping for inspiration.

“I like your heart, Audovera. It’s full of life.”

“Oh my!” Audovera beamed and stroked his forearm, “That’s the best compliment I’ve had in hours. Thank you, your Grace.”

Leofwin looked pissed.

Did I say the wrong thing? Best to change the subject.

“What did you think of the King’s announcement?” said Dolwillen.

“A load of old rot,” said Leofwin. “He’s not handing the throne to anyone.”

“I wondered why you were being so friendly, Leo,” said Audovera. “You failed, didn’t you?”

Leofwin frowned.

“Son, wounded; daughter, roughed up and ransomed; and you, Leo?”

“Injured while fighting.”

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“I remember now,” said Audovera. “You broke your wrist while hitting a hay-stuffed doll with a wooden sword. Such strength!”

Leofwin’s cheeks flushed red.

Audovera pressed herself against Leofwin’s chest, “Were you hoping for a free ride with me, Leo? I could be the next Queen. My sons are doing rather well.” She stepped back and covered her hand with her mouth, “Oh! You weren’t hoping to get your claws into them too, were you?” Audovera smiled as if she were delighted and softly slapped her palm against Leofwin’s chest, “How naughty!”

Leofwin barged past Audovera, knocking his shoulder against her upper arm. Audovera stumbled into Dolwillen, who caught her shoulders.

“So gallant, your Grace. At last, we are alone! What did you wish to discuss?”

He was still trying to process what had happened. Dolwillen helped the Marchioness stand and wiped his hands with his handkerchief. How was he going to get Vyvyan’s support now? Dolwillen tapped his chin with his forefinger. He’d send Guntard, the Drýmann was good at persuasion.

Dolwillen tilted his head up and stepped closer to Audovera.

She squeaked, “A kiss? So forceful. Please, give me a moment to straighten my hair.” Audovera tucked her black hair behind her ears, closed her eyes, and leaned in.

Dolwillen’s cheek brushed hers as he whispered in her ear, “What would it take for you to support me?”

“Is that a marriage proposal?”

Audovera’s breath tickled his ear as she spoke. Her behaviour was beginning to annoy Dolwillen, “No.”

The Marchioness sighed and straightened, “Firgen is an old friend of mine, your Grace. Perhaps you would care to visit me at home and we can talk about strengthening the trade between Mánfeld and Wilddéorcynn. After all, one cannot till fields without iron ploughs.”

“I will send my son, Cerddin.”

Audovera smiled, “If you can persuade Leofwin to loosen his belt and Helȝas from eating every delicacy that arrives at his docks, I would consider it a great favour.”

“They will cooperate with me.” Dolwillen folded his arms and rested them on his small paunch.

“I do hope so.”

“If we can come to an agreement, I will paint a portrait of you as a present.”

“That will not be necessary.”

“Shame,” said Dolwillen.

He left.

Next I have to find Helȝas.

Dolwillen had caught a glimpse of Duke Engram’s greasy brown curls and baggy, many chinned face during the King’s tedious speech. The idiot had been wearing a yellow silk pelisse edged with squirrel fur to hide his corpulent body. He’d sweated and panted through the whole speech like an amorous ass.

Helȝas was nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps he is wallowing in a fountain in a vain effort to cool down. Dolwillen exited through a side door and stepped into the gardens.

A man lay along the rim of a large stone fountain. He was drunk and trying to hold his face in the flowing water with little success. The wasn’t Helȝas, but maybe he would know where the lard laden lord was lurking.

“Where is Duke Engram?” said Dolwillen.

“Wha’?” said the man.

A peasant, how revolting. How did he sneak in? Dolwillen swallowed his disgust, “Duke Helȝas Engram, draped in yellow, wears too much perfume.”

“Oh, the fat fella, wondered who he was.”

“Where is he?”

“Throwin’ up in the bushes.” The man pointed towards a dark mound lined with gold, several feet away. Dolwillen started towards him, but the peasant grabbed his sleeve. As Dolwillen yanked his arm from the grip of the filthy drunk he caught a glimpse of the man’s face.

“Wouldn’t go that way for a bit, sir. Isn’t polite to interrupt a man mid-flow, you won’t be able to talk to ‘im anyways.”

Dolwillen growled, how dare the man touch me! He was about to draw his sword when he realized where he’d seen him before. It’s the monster’s father. I need to check there are no more horrifying abominations walking about.

“I apologise, I did not recognise you.”

“‘Sur-right, don’t know anyone anyways.” He chuckled, “You see me then? Standing next to the King?”

“Of course, no one could miss you.”

“‘as’s righ’. I was so surprised when I was invited an all. M’ daughter too. Did you see her? She’s so beautiful, all them colours on her skin. Why, she looks like a pain’in’.”

“However trustworthy you might be, I still find it hard to believe that such a graceful woman is your daughter.”

The man laughed again and tried to drape his arm over Dolwillen’s shoulder, but Dolwillen avoided it.

The man stumbled and burped, “Oh, pardon me, sir. Not used to all this fine food. You should believe me ‘cause it’s true, Elewýs is m’ daughter. So proud of her, survivin’ all tha’ time. Shame the others didn’t make it.”

“The others?”

“’as’s righ’, my son Heudebrant an’ daughter Menghenyld, never got to see my gran’daughter Hunig neither. They all died when the village blew up. Somethin’ must ‘ave gone wrong with them funny yellow stones.”

There were tears in his eyes now, he wiped its face with his sleeve and sniffed, “’as’s righ’, them stones.”

Dolwillen hadn’t asked, but he let the man talk.

“Elewýs brought one of ‘em back. Yellow as butter an’ all rough cut, but with sides like glass. She gave it to me, don’t think is worth nothin’, but it’s pretty. Here,” he held out a stone.

Dolwillen recognised it, “It’s magnificent. Are there many more like it?”

“Hundreds, jus’ lyin’ on the ground.” The man peered at him, “You shouldn’t go there mind. The forest is cursed; it’ll be the death of you.”

“Fascinating,” said Dolwillen. “I do hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Oh, I will, sir. I doubt I’ll ever see the like again.”

Dolwillen strode towards the bushes.