3.9

Jewel could not say she was surprised by the choice of attending Wizard that Father had settled on.

Tsulogothulan was, honestly, the obvious choice.

Euewyn was very helpful, friendly and had an excellently sharp sense of humor. But her inability to actually speak in anything but the sounds of autumn and forests made her usefulness as a subject in Father’s court quite limited.

And given everything that went into Fizzbunches?

It was a decision that practically made itself.

The timing was also fortuitous. For it was now the closing of the now firmly named Boar Festival.

Given that it had opened with the naming and acknowledgement of a new Knight for Barony, it was appropriate to acknowledge the start of service of a proper court Wizard to Father at its closing.

“My subjects and guests, I have given to all of you your due from the bounty of the Terror Boar. I have acknowledged and heard all of you and welcomed your pledge to me as your lord and renewed my own honor bound vow to protect you. Not just from Boar and Beast, Not just from bandits and outlaws, But from summer’s hunger and winter’s cold!”

For this last day they had opened up a few casks of the cheapest wine available. The household staff had of course watered them down so that even the kinder and infirm could enjoy the refreshments and it had raised the mood of those attending.

That it also stretched their meager stores to the point that the nearly eight hundred attendees could all get at least a cup helped as well.

Nearly five days of smoked meats, frivolity, minstrels, chance to exchange gossip and goods had done wonders for the spirits that travel and imminent hungry summer had made low.

The general good cheer and fortune from games of skill, glory and chance had done even more to endear all present.

There had of course been a few sour ones in the bushel.

But like with the foul-mouthed Peddler by work of the footmen or the peasantry themselves (as was normally best with common law) proper justice was meted out and troublemakers either put away to gain their senses or driven out of the demesne entirely.

“And before we bring these celebrations to a close...”

The obligatory groans that all good things had to come to an end was acknowledged with a bright smile from Father.

“I bring forth one last tiding to take with you home to all under my obligation. For while I have raised a good Knight in Kraok Boarslayer, so have I also accepted the services of another.”

He gestured, and on cue the well cut fresh boards of the dais flexed and groaned, then grew muted and wet.

Soon the dampness became a sopping puddle of at first clear water, but rapidly was run through with the black damp mire of mud and the green flecks of duckweed.

The air up upon the dais grew humid and then at last, as much a liquid ooze as some kind of incredibly oversized leech squeezed and pooled up from underneath the boards.

Leaving them warped and waterlogged, aged before their time and already succumbing to the sort of rot that took ages in stagnant water.

The Bog Weird stood in the sun, their single eye peering out at the crowd, wide brimmed hat obscuring the brightness of the noonday sun and casting thick, almost foggy shadows over their pale continence.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

One bonelessly undulating arm rose like a sinewy whip of flesh, only after it settled in a crooked arm and a dainty waggle at the wrist did the wave of greeting become apparent.

And then with a turning twist that started approximately at the point of the ankles but spiraled up where shins, knees, thighs, hips and abdomen their new Wizard bowed to Father.

Jewel had to hold her face steady with great attention to avoid reacting to how that one motion was affecting her.

One of the less sturdy among the audience actually turned and vomited into the packed dirt,

politely they would probably blame the wine.

Father politely did not acknowledge the man of ill constitution.

Quite a number of the audience seemed not very far from loosing their stomachs into the dirt either.

“I present to you the Esteemed Sorcerer and Court Wizard of Rochford, Tsulogothulan Weird of the Uloghai Bog”

Father had gotten quite a lot of practice saying that name correctly.

From the faces of the peasantry they were going to be struggling for quite some time with it.

Tsulogothulan for their part unwound from the contorted ropelike twist they had taken up to bow to Father and again swept the crowd with that single voluminous eye.

Then in a further boneless undulation the Wizard of the Bog bowed to all of them and spoke in the clear yet foreign, round-voweled drawl.

“I will be attending my duty to Lord Rochford and through him the barony and by the land yourselves. Fear not my passing and may blessings be upon all of you and your crops.”

And then with that the Tsulogothulan melted into black ichor and muck.

Ooze seeping through the warped gaps in the planks where they had emerged and with a disconcerting groan of timbers was gone.

Leaving behind a hole that seemed like it had been the work of ages of wet rot, rain and mold.

Only discernible as a working of magic by its sudden appearance in the dais and absolutely perfect circular shape.

Already the sound of frogs and other marsh life was rising from the pit and new shoots of swamp plants were emerging from it.

Before all of their eyes fresh and flush green marsh reeds hallowed out from the dark pit that had been ‘worn’ into the dais.

Father marshaled himself with a face that looked not at all as perturbed as she knew he was.

His hands clapping to draw attention back to himself.

“With this I close the Festival, you may still partake of the delights and frivolity with this sun but we will be clearing come sundown!”

And with that the mildly disturbed crowd began their departure.

Some left hurriedly to get to their lodgings and pack.

Others moved to get last minute exchanges or treats for the road.

But as her family sat at their places upon the dais, there was only one thing on the young Wyrm’s mind.

Tsulogothulan’s abrupt arrival and departure had ruined most of the timbers involved in erecting the platform. Carving through with sopping moisture and damp rot what should have been solid wood to last for years in but a moment.

Leaving behind what as Jewel craned her neck appeared to be a complete miniature pond. Water inky black with depth and silt, dappled over in duck weed and even a wide circular lilypad.

Perfectly circular all the way down to what just moments ago had been hard packed stone.

Did it go all the way down to the chambers below?

Was there now a swamp in one of their cellars or did this new mass of fresh bog somehow avoid any interference with the fort’s architecture?

Was there going to be mildew concerns, going forward?

She did not have any certainty from here and could not depart to investigate until Father himself departed or dismissed her and Alexander.

But one thing that was certain.

Jewel just knew that the poor groundskeeper Samuel was not going to appreciate the addition of a water feature to the courtyard.