"Come on you raver, you seer of visions,
come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner..."
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Marignon, Turn 9
Esclave
"Esclave."
I awoke with a hand on my shoulder. I had been working on cross-referencing a particularly tricky passage from Encyclopedia Illwinter with St. Quantum's
Gvide to Bvffing , and must have fallen asleep on my pages where I sat working in the library.
"Esclave."
I turned, and beheld her. Close up, she was... and her voice was the soft glow of sunrise, and... she knew my name!
"Um, yes my lady?"
"I need you to make me a sword."
I hesitated, fearful that my pounding blood had made me mishear. "I fear a blacksmith might serve you better."
She laughed with a twinkling of bells. "I don't need you to forge me one, just put these," she poured five fire rubies from her hand onto my pages, "into this." So saying, she drew a short sword of common design and also balanced that on my books.
I was somewhat flummoxed by this odd request, not least because I had no way to fulfill it.
"Perhaps... my lady, you would be better served approaching the Archbishop Marignon with this request. He has many fine magi who could help you with this, while I, a lowly cleric, have most scant knowledge of magick. What I do know is purely theoretical..."
The golden-haired one paused, but her eyes twinkled. "Everything required is in St. Wordscigam's Compendium. Beyond that, all that is required is a pure heart, a keen eye, and a steady hand."
In the face of such beauty I was not about to deny any admirable trait. "I am at your service, my lady."
"I would be glad to show you how to begin." She moved closer and put a hand on the back of my chair.
"I...I believe I can make it work," I managed, hastily gathering my books and preparing my retreat, "But now, I think, I hear the call for morningsong, so... uh..."
"Then I will see you again tomorrow morning, oh, and Escalve?"
"Yes?"
She reached out with her pure-white sleeve and wiped my cheek with a smile, "You have ink on your face".
Ghost
The smell is overpowering and it has been 2 days since my last proper meal. In the dark, I clutch Aftial's gift tighter and a faint fire glows along its sharp edge, lighting my enclosure. I think back to that last conversation with her:
Father Muszinger is using the lord's rebellion to build his support. In each province he deposes the current lord for not accepting the church's new doctrine, but replaces him with a leader loyal directly to Father Muszinger.
A lurch! For a moment I panic. I calm my heart, and quiet my breath. I am not here. You cannot notice me. We are underway at last.
Spire Woods is the last of the old provinces on Father Muszinger's path of conquest. The prince, Leric, is defying the church's commands. The throne after him passes to his wife, Manthe, and after her to their son, Pagobar, but the fourth in line for the throne is a good man: loyal to me and well liked by the church. With him on the throne, Muszinger will have no grounds to attack.
The servants grunt on the stair. I feel a little sorry for them. If I fail, they will surely be put to death for their involuntary participation.
But removing the top three will not be easy. The royal family is paranoid about assassination. Worse, they cannot stand each other, and are rarely in the same building. If you kill one, the others will tighten security even more.
The door is open now. I can hear the servants being roughly searched and yelled at, for no reason other than that the guards hold swords and the servants do not. But everything is in order, and now I am moving again.
Your only chance is the midwinter feast. They will gather to celebrate together-- but not in some great hall where an assassin might be able to intrude. They will dine together in their private hall with only one set of great doors, nowhere to hide within, and a pack of their most faithful guards outside. Every dish will be sampled for poison, and every servant who enters will be thoroughly searched.
The voices are muffled, but I can hear. The servants leave the room. The royal family drink and eat noisily, bickering with each other. A knife intrudes near my face, and it is time to move. The calf's carcass is sliced from nose to tail and I arise. They fall like leaves, my sword and my arm in perfect harmony. My shield does not come off my back. Now it is quiet. I can have a quick meal before figuring out how to escape.
Esclave
I awoke in the bitterly cold morn. Careful not to disturb her, I incant to the candle, which flickers briefly in the stillness, then goes black. I decide it is not important to see anyway, and return to warm slumber.
In the morning the bed is empty and she is gone, leaving only a note about how she must go out to fight, but that she loves me. To fight! I gesture to start the fireplace and the room explodes into flame.