Arnfried’s Journal Cont’d
Gilpean 1st
The interior of Teufelburg was impressive, by any standards that one judges castles by. Some such as Ackalburg, were large and expansive, while others such as the great keep of Baugmünster were thrice in height and size of most keeps. To my understanding, palatial estates such as those of Guilladon, Lynette and Armand over in Gallia were considerably larger and grander than all those in Valholant.
This keep though, built into the very rock of the mountain contrary to the darkened exterior that cast a long shadow over the land, the interior was warm and richly coloured. The walls were bronze in colouration, with rich tapestries hanging from every wall.
These finely woven silk and wool hangings, told tales I was not wholly familiar with, though they seemed to recount legends and great deeds on the part of many great men and women, dating back to an age beyond that of Aemiliemagne.
The floor which was made of fine white marble, and covered with silk carpets that were crimson with gold trimmings, leading across the grand twenty meter long and wide entrance hall. Such was the demonstration of wealth that I was at once awed by it. How could I not be amazed by the shimmering dungeon interior? The extravagance on display which made me think this place was more than a match for the Emperor’s halls (not that I have seen any of them!) so that I hardly noticed Klove addressing me.
“Brother Arnfried, if I may take your cloak, and see to your leg before you are presented to the Lady Baroness,” Klove repeated himself when prompted.
Blushing at having forgotten my own wounds, and remembering the pain that had once robbed me of my reason, but a few minutes prior I nodded my head ever so slowly.
At present my wounds had been treated if ever so lightly, so that I might survive without too much troubles the hour-long journey up the mountain.
Brought to another chamber, it was there where I was made to elevate my robes that my guide might treat the wound. Tending to it, he was to clean it and bandage it with almost tender care, so that I could not help but stare at him as he worked with all the gentility of a loving wolf-mother with her cub.
“You are quite skilled in the healing arts, Klove,” I remarked to the thin-lipped bearded servant of the Baroness.
“Indeed, as you are not the first wanderer to journey to this castle and to have become wounded I have had to learn such arts. They were taught to me by the previous clergyman who joined us here,” He explained to me coolly, with the politeness of a true servant. Admitting but a moment later, “The wolves that live at the foot of the mountain can be quite vicious. Therefore, there is to be no talk to the lady of what has happened, lest she should worry.”
There was a hint of steel in his eyes, of a sort I had seen but a rare few times before in my life. Worried and confused, about the menace that emanated from his gaze, I hardly noticed the door to the small darkened chamber open.
Empty save for the simple stool and a few ale-filled barrels, the brief flash of light of a torch could be discerned ere the rasping voice of the lady. “Ah, there the two of you are, I must confess to have begun to worry for the both of you.”
The lady whom stood in the doorway and hurried hither to greet us, and welcome me to the castle was one who looked to be older than even Brother Benjamin, the eldest of the Eichbraun-Abbey monks. Far older than even the Baron Dagobert, to whom our abbey owed allegiance to, and who had recommended one of our monks to Archdouvain Wolfgang and Duke Meinrad for this undertaking.
There was carved into the stone of her face the same hardiness that was characteristic of old Baron Dagobert, save where he had a hint of softness there was little of that in this haggard woman’s face. Hard as iron, was her face one that might have been said to be cast in that very metal, with its stony and cold disposition. Armed with beady little black eyes, and a hawk-like nose, she had a striking appearance, one that might once have been beautiful.
But it was not these traits or the rich red silk gown that drew the eye, but her thick-lips. Thick and blood-red, they were positioned over a short chin that had folds of wrinkles and flesh that separated lip from chin, and over all of this were the sharpest, most noteworthy canines ever seen in the history of Valholant.
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I hope you do not mind my slightly poetic turn of phrase at this moment Sieghild, however it must be confessed that I had never seen a single man, or woman let alone any beast with such fangs. I must confess to have stared overlong at them (doubtless you would have scolded me for my rudeness, and in this I would have gladly accepted the reprimand), so that the lady gave me a slightly vexed look.
Embarrassed by my own rudeness and visible repugnance I hurriedly bowed and to kiss her outstretched hand. It was clammy, ice-cold as one might have expected from a block of ice or a cadaver, I shuddered at the touch though did not retreat.
“You were late to arrive,” She remarked pleasantly once she had withdrawn her hand, her eyes glimmering with grandmotherly concern.
Moved by this show of concern for my person, and taking pity upon Klove for having rescued me from the beastly wolves that had attacked me. “Yes, we had difficulties with some local wolves, so that Klove had to come to my rescue.”
“Really now?” the Baroness muttered dark eyes I noticed now, shifted it seemed in colour ever so slightly, so that they were two of the most remarkable eyes I had ever seen. They struck as forcibly as lightning, and yet tended to draw an individual into them, her disapproving stare made Klove shrink away and filled my heart with pity for him.
The storm-cloud passed and cleared away, leaving in its wake, pleasant politeness as before. “Very well, then if such is the case, you must be tired I think it time that Klove shows you to your chambers. That you may do toilet, and rest ere you are served your meal.”
Shown to my chambers, by the silent monolith that could well have passed for one of the gargoyles outside the keep, who torch in hand guided me through a dozen well-decorated hallways. Hallways that could only be described as grim, such was their tenebrous nature so that I could not help but shiver every few seconds as we moved through them. There were a number of statues that stood to either side of them, with each of them marvelously well-sculpted even as they were hideous to look upon. There were many tapestries that hung in these hallways also, depicting great battles, and fine feasts though I could not make much out about them, such was the darkness of the hallways. Each of the hallways though, were two meters wide, more than eight meters high and had dull red walls and ceiling, which must have been comforting in the light of day, but at night seemed even more oppressive and daunting than the wolves outside the keep.
Klove, his manner serious, thin lips pressed together and eyes directed before him, as he guided me up a number of stairs that drew a pained gasp from me due to my battered limb.
Once on the third floor, he escorted me past a particularly large tapestry which depicted the map of the lands of Valholant. I could make out the details on it solely you see thanks to the light of his torch and because we paused very briefly by it. Doing so, that he might unlock the door to the bedchambers given over to me, for the duration of my stay.
Seeing my fascination with it, the older man remarked almost genially. “The tapestry was spun by the lady herself. In the time of her youth, when she was still fascinated by the Continent, this was well before my time herein the Wyvern-Tower.”
“Any reason why the principal dungeon of the keep is known as the ‘Wyvern-Tower’ Klove,” I asked of the servant relieved that we could cease mounting stairs.
He flicked a brief if passing glance in my direction, “The name was given to the keep long ago, due to the wyverns that once inhabited the cliffs upon which it was built and that were chased away by the ancestor of the lady. It was I believe the Lord Bastian, who did this. He was a barbarous man though one of good intent it is said, and was even knighted by the likes of Aemiliemagne, with his being the first baron of the castle.”
“Really now? This I did not know,” I said having never heard of any of this history.
“Oh yes, brother, though most on the mainland remain ignorant of it, house Varcola is one of the oldest in all of the lands who speak the Valholantian tongue.” Klove explained to me at some length. “Most houses from two and even three hundred years ago have since expired unless I am very much mistaken.”
“You are quite well-informed Klove, I am impressed,” I praised with the taller man demurring from my compliments wherefore I was to ask of him. “Is there any place, where I might find more of this sort of knowledge? I should very much like to make a full study of the old barons, to share this knowledge with the Archdouvain that he might better receive her ladyship.”
“I shall inquire with the lady regarding this matter of yours,” He said though he did not sound altogether greatly pleased with the request.
Shown to my chambers, where Klove dressed my wounded leg, wherefore he left to see to the meal informing me it would not be long. Left to my own devices in a small room, with a large bed with thick coverlets and furs to ward off the cold, and with feather pillows it could well have pleased a king. To one side was a simple square table, where I was to place my effects, which included a small bottle of ink, a feather-pen and my journal into which I at present write of my journey.
I also placed hereupon the table my torn robes that I may change into a spare set of robes that I brought on the journey at the abbot’s suggestion. One that I am most grateful for, even as I prepare to put away my journal and write now a letter that I shall send along soon (or so I hope).
I have much to tell you Sieghild that has not yet been written down, but alas there is Klove’s fist upon the door! Away am I, to eat at last and to in your words fulfill that duty which I am always wont to abandon out of distraction with other lesser duties!