The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom XV

Dawn of the 13th day, Castle Frost

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The falcon bows his head to the falconer, and suddenly before her eyes a knight stands. “I am Heldris the Dove Knight, I come with a message for your King.”

Referee

Your slur your words and sway and your body feels alien with a dead limb hanging from your side. The Rusalki drops her knife and steadies you and calls for servants who lead you down the winding stairs and through endless marble halls, austere and cold, and lined with statues who watch you with their dead eyes. The throne room is a freezing tomb and on his throne of ice sits the King, large as a whale. “WE HAVEN'T MET IN YOUR DREAMS, DOVE KNIGHT” he roars “BUT YOU ARE WELL LOVED BY THOSE WHOSE DREAMS I VISITED.” His face is all white beard and shines like the moon and his small eyes sparkle ”HOW WILL YOU SERVE ME AGAINST THE USURPER?”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The Dove Knight bows respectfully. “I thank you for your kind words, my lord.” He stands tall, shivering in the freezing air of the throne room. “I bring news of a weakness in the usurper's defences, and of sedition among their ranks.” He pauses, weighing his next words. “Your Majesty's been kind to us, and we have been their watchful eyes. We ask for one last thing: to access the southern gate to our land. Ashling and Osier will cross the threshold with us, and that'll leave the usurper even weaker. And if a way is known to you to break the spell that bound Osier to this world, that'll be a mighty blow to Coredis’ pride for sure.” The Dove Knight bows, and proceeds to relate about the northern tower of the Halls of Desire, and the way it can be accessed from outside.

Referee

The Winter King looks down at his Marshall who wears an eclectic armour that bears trophies of many battles. Her white hair partly obscures her face but you see a jagged scar running down to her jaw line. She has tilted her head to the side, frowning and has urged you to speak up more than once. “I will prepare the troops, my lord!” she exclaims almost as loud as the king. Her cane strikes the marble floor and the sound echoes through the halls as she leaves. “ONE OF MY SERVANTS RIDES WITH YOU. HE AGREED TO THE PRICE WHEN HE ENTERED. NOW HE HAS TO PAY WHAT HE OWS. ONLY THEN WILL I ALLOW YOU TO LEAVE THROUGH THE SOUTHERN HILLS.

Castle Frost

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

“What is the price that you asked?” Asks Heldris, raising his voice like the Marshall did.

Referee

The Winter King shifts on his throne, a single block of glacial ice, and his colossal presence seems to fill the hall as he roars. “MY SERVANT OWES ME HIS LIFE AND I WILL COME TO CLAIM IT.”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris turns pale and stares at the imposing figure, at loss for words. He mutters something, then gets hold of himself and raises his voice: “I’m sure Your Majesty will see how the service we’ve done can pay your.. servant’s price more than enough.” He gestures to the freezing hall around him. “With our help, and that of your servant most of all, you’ll have the usurper’s head and shall rule your rightful kingdom once again.”

Referee

A deafening silence fills the hall and you stand forlorn under a chandelier of stars. You hear footsteps and a young Rusalki in an ancient tunic of white silk bows to you and whispers: “The King wishes to rest and you must be tired as well. We will ride for the Usurper's palace as soon as the war machines are ready to be deployed.” She puts her small cold hand on yours and you see blue veins under her almost translucent skin. “I can take you to your quarters if you wish to rest and ride with us at noon or saddle a steed if you prefer to leave now.”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris shivers at the touch of her cold hand. “Please, I need one further word with the King.” He steps forward, declaiming as loud as he can: “I will join your host, you’ll have my knowledge of their defences, the cunning of my race, and the swiftness of my sword that slew one of theirs only a few hours ago. All that will make sure you are no match for the usurper. On one condition, consider my service to repay at least a portion of what the Fox Knight owes you.” The Dove Knight bows low, and falls silent

Referee

You hear the young Rusalki inhale sharply and she tries to pull you away but you refuse to move. Behind you the doors to the hall open and you hear wheels grinding over the marble floor. “YOUR KIND IS EAGER TO STRIKE A BARGAIN BUT UNWILLING TO FACE THE CONSEQUENCES” The King rises slowly and towers over you.”MY SERVANT HAS PLEDGED HIS LIFE TO BE CONSUMED, WILLINGLY AND WITH A CLEAR MIND” He lowers himself into the wheeled palanquin, massive like a battle ram and pulled by a dozen slaves. He grunts when he comes to rest on hides and furs and closes his eyes. ”HIS SACRIFICE WILL STRENGHTEN THE REALM” he sighs and the slaves start pulling him away.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Impatience surpasses its limit, and the Dove Knight scowls. “What good do my human words do when I only have a wall to talk to?” he mumbles, too quiet to be heard. He dons the glove again and turns into a falcon, there in the throne room. A flutter of wings, in the reflection of the many candles, and he flies back the way he came. In the falconry, he lands on a perch and looks at the falconer with that enigmatic look that pertains to birds. He then turns to his kin and addresses their bunch: “Fly with me to the south, out of this land of cold. Scatter and look for help: from the lesser birds, from the cunning fox, the angry bear and the lonesome wolf. And I promise you a safer home and never a day of hunger.” He cries and flaps his great wings, and flies off to find his brothers.

Referee

You take flight from the wooden plank and one after the other the falcons follow. The earth falls away and your feathered brothers compete with you to be the first above the clouds and then you fly south towards the sun as one. At noon they cry “Where will we meet again?”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

As Heldris spots the Knights and the Wild Hunt in pursuit, he cries to the falcons to signal a change of plan: "Too late, stay close to me, we'll distract the hunters" The birds regroup close to great falcon and flies towards the hunt, distracting their hounds and horses with their loud cries.

Referee

You see torches below you, and in its light Milos surrounded by the wild Fae. The falcons smell the sweat of the hunters and panic and beg you to flee.

Morning of the 13th day, near Olwen's Bridge

You ride south under a grey sky and it is very cold. At noon you cross a wild brook that feeds the foaming river and you hear the sound of hooves on snow and when you look over your shoulder you see a warband of Fae warriors in full gallop approaching. The Wild Hunt is upon you.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake grabs the reins, and calls to his brothers. "They are upon us! We must ride, and pray for opportunity ahead." Behind him, he feels his son lean forward. "Father, let me take care of them. I will dazzle their senses, lame their horses, turn the very elements against them!" Perilake's blood freezes. "No, Avert!" He snaps, and feels the boy's scowl in the sudden tension. "Your power has a price, and it may well be one we must pay. But only when we must!" He steers the horse forward, and the brothers flee.

Referee

You flee over the frozen marshland and the steeds foam at their mouths and you feel their heart beat and their sweat on your legs. Whenever you look over your shoulder the Hunt seems closer, a cloud of snow around them and they don't relent. You pass a forest while the hidden sun sets and you reach the foothills of the mountains and the Hunt follows. Between the naked trees on the hills it is already night and you pass a mound rising from a pond and you see the dancing torches of the Fae below you

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos reigns in his horse and stares down the slope at the multitude of torches. "We cannot evade them" he declares in a hurried whisper. "I will attempt to misdirect them with an illusion and buy you time. Ride hard for the gate and I will catch up as I can." Not waiting for objections, he turns his horse to prepare to ride north along the ridge.

Referee

Perilake's steed rears up and in a swift motion Osier glides off the saddle. His face is flushed with excitement as he tries to get hold of your reins: "Your illusion is weak and they will be upon you in the blink of an eye." he whispers urgently. “Let me show you sorcery that will help them escape, spells that my father can be proud of.” He looks into your eyes from below and he never looked more Fae. “If you are willing to give me some of your spirit, I can help you weave a strong glamour"

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox Knight hesitates. A sudden gust of wind carries the frenzied voices of the Wild Hunt to all their ears and he looks to Perilake with a pained expression. "I promise to protect him with my life."

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake looks pale and deathly unhappy, and grips his son's arm. "Come back to me Avert, please. I am proud of you, I am proud of your bravery. In your sacrifice here, whether you see it. Come back to me."

Referee

Osier shakes Perilake's hand off, mounts the steed and settles smoothly onto the blanket behind Milos. “Flee west, father” His voice is barely more than a whisper. ”Your squire will find the portal in the southern hills even without me. We will follow as soon as we can but if you don't move now even the strongest glamour won't be able to trick Stribog.”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos and Osier find an outcropping of rock a short distance to the north behind which they dismount silently. Crouching in the darkness together, Milos whispers "With your help, I will attempt the sending from here. Take what you need from me to give it force and reach, but not so much that I am too addled to orchestrate the ruse and make our escape afterwards." He offers his hand palm up to the boy.

Referee

Osier places the briar into Milos palm. For a moment he looks like a boy tasked with threading the needle or another mundane problem, frowning and with his tongue between his teeth but then he puts his fist around your hand and the thorns pierce your skin. A shot of pleasure runs up your arm as if your blood turned to gold, warm and bright and with it comes a wild triumph and you feel your lips stretching into an inhuman grin and Osier bares his teeth: “Yes, Milos, this is how it feels. Now show Stribog how well humans can play their game”.

You know that you are up on the rock with Osier but now you step out between trees and stand before the Hunt. Stribog raises a torch above his wolf's head to get a better look at you with his yellowed eyes. “Has Perilake sent his young cub to be slaughtered?” He throws his head back and howls with laughter.

The Wild Hunt is upon them

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Zoltan leads the fractured party to the portal, their steeds pounding against the ground, trampling low shrubs as they race toward their goal. If the other knights could see Anastaz's face clearly, they would see his bloodshot eyes and blue veins snaking through his face, pale and tight from the cold and lack of sleep. At one point, the Salt Knight's steed shrieks as it cracks through a thin ice sheet and is doused with frigid water. But as the soft light of dawn begins to stain the once-night sky, the knights see songbirds wake up and begin their calls. And like that, the landscape is transformed with the threatening suggestion of spring.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Wolf’s laughter dies down awkwardly into an eerie silence as Milos slowly saunters out into the center of the clearing where the Rusalki are gathered. His left eye burns with lively fire as he surveys the host arrayed against him. The torches crackle as all await his response to Stribog’s jibe. But the Fox only turns his attention to the Wolf after an interminably elongated moment. “You teeter on a precipice. There are many in this very company that would rejoice to see you fail in this Hunt. They long for a fierce and cunning leader who can finally bring the spring. And she awaits in the wings, ready to pounce, when you falter.” He laughs now himself, showing strangely sharp teeth. “So tell me mighty Stribog, if I am such a lowly opponent, it should be no effort to vanquish me yourself. Thus I challenge you here to a duel to first blood.” He tilts his head playfully, daring him to accept.

Referee

The Wolf snarls and jumps of his three legged steed: “You are not the first to challenge me, Fox, and you won't be the last. If you win … “ he cackles at the absurdity of his words ” ...you'll be the lord of the western Rusalki. But if you lose … ” He draws a serrated blade and with it he turns slowly around, pointing at every single one of the Fae “... you will be consumed by them!” You can't see them clearly in the torchlight but you feel the bloodlust of the Hunt, twisted shapes in the shadows - half fae, half beast and the hounds run between them and bark and sniff the air.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris musters the falcons with a loud cry. He advises them not to fly too close, just enough to upset the horses and distract the hounds. “When you have their attention, fly away but let them follow for a while.” He then descends over the scene, taking advantage of the tension between Sir Milos and Striborg, and leads the falcons in a graceful but dangerous flight over the tired beasts.

Referee

The falcon's follow, hesitantly at first and then spurred on by Heldris battle cry, diving and swooping in, dodging Vesper's arrows and flying javelins, rising and diving again. Stribog howls in anger, unable just yet to fully engage with the Fox Knight's mirror image. From nearby branches the white ravens croak and take flight.

Milos, you maintain the glamour as long as you can but you feel the gold in your veins turn to poison and finally Stribog strikes and your cunning ploy is exposed. Osier has watched you all the while like a cat watching a mouse and when the weakness grips you he pulls you up onto the horse and he takes the reins and you flee through the night. “You got a taste of true sorcery. Tell me Fox: How did it feel?”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The falcons follow Heldris, gliding aggressively over the horses. A furious barking follows their flight as arrows hiss past them. One of the falcons flies too close and struggles to manoeuvrer between the low branches, a javelin finds its way to it. Another is shot down by a silver arrow from a jet black bow. The two remaining manage the spread some confusion among the beasts, and are called back by Heldris to follow Osier's call.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos wraps his arms tightly across Osier’s chest. The blood from his hand seeps into the boy’s tunic, just above his heart. “It was never power that tempted me, Avert.” The mad gallop of the grey mare suddenly slows preternaturally, its four hooves gracefully suspended above the snow covered plain. And a torrent of memories rushes through the open channel between the two riders. Delight and wonder at a first meeting in a grove of red and gold leaves. An encouraging hand on his shoulder. An intimate voice speaking softly into his ear. A multitude of moments of kindness, of support, of love, perhaps. A gentle kiss on the mouth, met with a soft “yes” in response. Then a disorienting shift as if the world were turning upside down. On his knees now, an icy hand grips his throat, hungry eyes look down upon him. “You will be mine now.” Milos pours all his emotions through the sympathetic bond he shares with Avert. Let’s the boy feel the cresting waves of stinging betrayal, of bitter helplessness, of sweet dreams turned to nightmares. “Do not make the mistakes I have made, Avert.” he says finally in a ragged whisper. And time resumes its normal pace, the four hooves striking the frozen ground in rapid unison.

Referee

Osier mumbles something and the shadow of a hawk rises from his silhouette and disappears into the night and then he is quiet for a long time while you ride over a mountain path with your arms around his chest. It is almost dawn when he finally speaks. “Maybe in time I can teach you the ways of the Fae, lest you be tricked by them again” Then he puts his hand over yours and squeezes them briefly. ” … and maybe you can teach me how to be human again.” But when you ride on he gently removes your hands. In the first light of the day you see three Knights at a small campfire resting between hills and three falcons circling overhead. Next to them a figure stands alone, wrapped in a winter coat, doubtfully observing his unlikely allies. The hills are covered in snow, cold and puffy like cotton and they extend to the horizon as if painted on the backcloth of a stage. There are signs of other seasons: tulips and poppies and marigold piercing the blanket of snow, red and bright, and with leaves of felt.

The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom XIV

Night of the 12th day, inside Ashling's chamber

Referee

“The King will demand your sacrifice to strengthen his rule ... “ He shakes his head in disbelieve. “... and you fool bound yourself to him with blood and breath and seeds." He scoffs. "And now you are trapped like the fox in the fairytale: 

Alas for the fox, he finds the entrance to his earth has been closed. 

The earth was stopped and barred with stakes." 

Ashling swirls his wine thoughtfully. “Anything else you want to propose?”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"I am touched by your concern, but my troubles with the Lord of the Hidden Grove notwithstanding, you still have something to gain from helping my comrades. You cannot directly undermine Coredis' enchantment over the boy but if you told us how to do so, it would ensure his removal from the realm. Your hands would remain clean." He pauses and makes an open handed gesture. "And the equally attractive possibility of humiliating Stribog also remains... And if the Winter King sows the earth with the dust of my bones, that is one less loose end to concern you."

Referee

Ashling sits in the dark for a while “It is true that I hate Stribog and I want to see him fail. If he hunts you and I can put my thumb on the scale without my liege noticing I will.” He mutters a word and passes his hand over the bowl and the surface of the water starts to ripple as if reacting to the sound of a bell. “But you need to understand that my main concern is Osier leaving, not whether he is whole or broken when he does.” You see the water rise to form mountains and mirror hills and forests. “The realms of fae and humans touch in places and there the barrier between our world is thin. Here … and here … “He touches a spot on the map in the mountains to the south where you first entered the realm and another within hills south of the palace. “Sometimes humans just wander into the realm or they are lured by promises … but they won't be able to leave unless the rulers of the Thrice-Ninth Kingdom allow it. If you do what either the Elf or the King demands they will open a portal for you.” He touches the water again in the north. “And then there is a hole far from here in the North dug by the small folk and they come and go as they please. You won't be able to pass through it by force and they don't obey anyone ... and they might demand their own toll.”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox Knight settles back in his chair and contemplates what he has heard. A cool evening breeze blows through the window and softly brushes his face. "Where our interests converge, we will endeavor to benefit you." And then almost as an afterthought: "so why is your Lord so taken by the boy?"

Inside Ashling's chamber

Referee

Ashling tuts disapprovingly. “I have to assume that the knowledge of your imminent mortality renders you reckless ... but I have to insist: I believe it is my turn to ask. “ His eyes glint in the darkness. “'Why are you loyal to the Fae who tricked you and who will sacrifice you to further his goals?”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"I am not loyal to the Lord of the Hidden Grove, I am beholden to him. There's a difference. You are at war with one of his avatars and thus imagine his goals self-evident. I have seen him in other seasons and do not presume to understand all his aspects." He pauses to rub the ivory ring with his thumb. How did it end up on the ring finger of his left hand? He can't remember. The wizard continues to observe him carefully. Milos looks out the window again with a wistful expression. "We shall see how my fate unfolds with him, but it is not yours to foretell."

Referee

“A guerdon for a gift: To the Rusalki magic comes natural, they command the clouds and the hills will obey.” Ashling smiles and his filed teeth reflect the candle light. “But they are fickle creatures and lack the ability to devote their time and study, they hate structure and form. Humans on the other side … for us sorcery is painful and alien and yet we can master it if we are willing to give ourselves to the glamour. “ He leans forward and fills your cup and his and his lips a red from the sweet wine “And this will be Osier's triumph. The more he weaves spells the more he will lose himself … until nothing of Avert is left.”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos smiles without any humor. "I see. So in the making of his powerful new sorcerer, he unmakes the human boy. An elegant efficiency. Fiendish, but elegant... And no doubt you speak from personal experience."

Referee

“No doubt. Was it worth it to subjugate the weak, dominate the foolish, to force my will onto tress and rocks and rivers? Well … that would be answering another question wouldn't it?” He studies your discoloured eyes with a slightly feverish look. He is not drunk but clearly affected by the wine. “Your friends. Where do they plan to escape the Kingdom, where do they intend to leave you behind?”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos feigns a sip from his own cup and looks at the sorcerer steadily. He wonders what accounts for the eagerness of these latest queries. "I honestly do not know the answer to either of those questions and any speculation on my part would be just that."

Referee

His red lips thin into a sharp line and then he sneers and leans back into the shadows. There is a muffled sound from the silver bowl as if a vase was crushed under a blanket and the surface of the water ripples. “Your answer is very fitting as I do not know either: One can only value what is lost if one remembered how it felt to have it.” He downs his cup “You better leave my little fox, the hounds are waking up.”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos sets down his cup and rises as if to depart, but then hesitates a moment. "I may be mistaken but you seem somehow vexed by our conversation. Is there something you wanted left unsaid?"

Referee

“You know, I envy Osier … not that he is Coredis' favourite. “He voice is hoarse and he gives a small humourless laugh.” … but that his father came for him. I wish ...” He looks away. “I can't remember the face of my mother nor the name of my father and I have forgotten my own name.” He slowly gets up and when you do the same he steps forward and whispers in your ear. His breath is sweet and musky and he smells like the Rusalki. He talks quickly and with great urgency “But if you would tell me where you leave the Kingdom I'll wait for you there. If you would take me with you through to the other side I'd tell you the King's name and you could break the geas he has put on you.“

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos grabs him by the hand and squeezes firmly, sealing the pact with human touch, with warmth and flesh. "I will send word. One for the little folk, two for the mountains, three for the hills nearby."

Referee

Heldris, when you open the door to search the palace a servant approaches you. She wears precious stones and seashells in her hair for clothes and she is very beautiful. “My lord doesn't want you to get lost. Where can I take you?”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris greets the servant politely. "Thank your Lord for his consideration. But the distance from home gets me melancholic, and I wish to stroll alone through the palace's hallways." The Dove Knight bows slightly. "It's the only way I know to shake it off. I'm sure you'll understand." And he walks off through the corridor on his left.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

As Heldris walks down the hallway, he hears the voice of the Salt Knight echoing down the corridors. "Could you bring more wine to my chambers?" he asks the servant.

Referee

While the servant turns and bows to the Salt Knight, Heldris manages to slip away and when she looks up he has already disappeared around the next corner.

Heldris, you walk the endless, incense-laden corridors, the moans of pleasure behind every door and you cross vestibules with fountains of great beauty. At a window you see the ruins of a tower that draws your attention: There the north western walls of the palace are broken and there is a spiderweb of icy tendrils surrounding a hole in the tower itself. You find your way down again descending winding staircases towards the tower and finally you are in another hall with a majestic chandelier and all the candles burning. From a large window you see the tower and a corridor filled with rubble leading to it. You hear something behind you. A large cat with jewelled eyes has sneaked up to you and growls:” Drop your puny weapon, spy, and follow me to the dungeon or I will have you for a late supper.”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The Dove Knight turns with a start. He looks at the jaguar and puts a hand on the hilt of his sword. “The only way you’ll have this weapon is inside your guts, wretched creature.”

Heldris unsheathes his sword and lunges forward, covering his face with his left arm. The jaguar’s bite meets the cold iron of the knight’s arm, while his blade cuts into the beast's side. Heldris falters for a moment, under the weight of the jade beast. But before it can react, he twists his blade again into its body, and the jaguar shatters into pieces on the glittering floor. The marks of its teeth still visible on the iron arm.

The Dove Knight looks around, worried that the noise might have roused more strange guards. He then hurries back to his chamber to alert his brothers and relate what he has seen.

Incense-laden Corridors

Referee

On your way back you hear wings flutter and the nervous calls of peacocks and herons and where you heard the sighs of pleasure before now there is the muffled sound of boots on carpets. You all arrive at the same time in Anastaz chambers.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Nearly every surface in the chambers is taken up by pitchers of wine in dozens of flavors and containers of different shapes and sizes. Finding a seat is genuinely difficult amid the clutter

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"He remembers... but still thinks of himself as Osier, not Avert." Perilake sits heavily against the wall, staring at the small cuts on his hand. "Even as I reach him, there is some glamour." He sinks his head into his hands, looking lost. "He wishes to leave, at least. Perhaps that will break the spell? Or will the King keep his word?" His voice drops to a whisper. "Would Coredis?"

Referee

As you leave the chambers you are approached by servants. “For your own safety you should stay inside” one of them pleads and "There is a spy on the loose" another adds while a third one holding a platter with a carafe of wine eyes the Salt Knight with some doubt.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

"We thank you for your thoughtfulness, but your spy is no danger to us." Says the Dove Knight with a reassuring tone. "Let us through, we have urgent business with your lord." He then eyes them disapprovingly, as to anticipate their reply... "private business..."

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake looks at the servants and shakes his head. "You want us to stay in that mess? You bring wine, but you do not bring the empty cup away!" He scowls and snatches the full cup from the servant. "All of you, do your duty by your lord and tend to his guests quarters or he will hear of your failures! Then it might be fit for us."

Referee

The servants plead and beg, “We will clean your quarters, Sir Knight, but please return to your room” and one gently grabs your hand and another puts her hand on Anastaz shoulder and one holds Heldris metal arm and they will not listen.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz draws himself up from his typical slouch to his full height and clasps the servants arresting Heldris and Perilake gently by the throat. He tosses them into his chambers, one crashing into a flagon of wine. The remaining servant begins to sprint down the hallway, but Anastaz rushes after her, yanks her back by the wrist, and sweeps her up. He throws her into the room and she bounces off the bed as the others secure the doors.

Referee

The servants whimper and sob as you lock the door and you follow Heldris down the corridor and soon you enter the labyrinth of stairs and halls and alcoves. You hear footsteps and whispers and doors are opened and closed or a Rusalki peaks out of their room, stares and immediately retreats. The palace is waking up.

You wander the maze for a long while, confused by an endless succession of hallways, galleries and claustrophobic lobbies hung with tapestries of opulent pleasures. Once or twice you need to evade roaming guards and it must be some time after midnight when you eventually reach the top of a flight of stairs that lead down to the hall where you slew the jade jaguar. Under the light of the chandelier you make out a single warrior in smoothbark armour standing guard at the far end of the room at the collapsed corridor. There are marble columns lining the wall to the east and a row of tall windows to the west where you had seen the tower before but now the moon is hidden and outside is only darkness.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

The knights huddle at the top of the stairs and look at one another. Zoltan places his hand on his sword, but Perilake stops him with a silent gesture and pulls his smoothbark helm low over his features, passing his shield over to the pigeon knight. He holds a hand to the others, then strides down the stairs. The guard glances up and as Perilake passes through the shadows of the hallway, before stepping in to the light just before her. The guard tenses, then visibly relaxes as shes sees the smoothbark armour and helm. She opens her mouth in greeting but the words become a gasp as suddenly Perilake surges forward, pinning her against the frame of the collapsed corridor, hand on her mouth and blade at her belly, ready to plunge to her heart. "Your kind told me that to fail Coredis is to be worthy of naught but death. Did they speak truly?" He hisses "Or will you take the mercy they despised?"

Referee

You feel her heart beating and her hot, wet breath on your hand. She looks down at you with her slanted eyes, the eyes of Adler and Osier and you don't know if she's scared or plotting her move. She tries to say something but her words are muffled under your palm. .

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake nods his head sharply, and the others approach from the stairs. Zoltan goes to remove the woman's weapon from her belt. Perilake tenses, ready to plunge the weapon in if she resists.

Referee

You can see past the warrior into the debris filled corridor. The ceiling has partially collapsed but you reckon you can squeeze through if you remove some of the boulders.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake nods to the others and whispers "Clear a path." Zoltan takes the guards blade, and searches for any hidden daggers before moving to help Milos and Heldris with the rubble. Anastasz waits with sword drawn, eyes fixed on the stairway behind them.

Referee

The three Knights work methodically through the rubble, moving boulders and clearing a passage while Anastaz stands guard. It is the dead of night when Zoltan finally emerges from the corridor, tired and covered in dust and he whispers that the path to the ruined tower is open. All the while the fae warrior hadn't moved in Perilake's grip and now she is staring at the Gilded Knight. 

Anastaz, you hear faint shouts and the sound of boots approaching. 

Heldris, you drag yourself past the last boulder. Before you is a stairwell leading up into the tower and another corridor leading north presumingly beyond the outer wall of the palace. The air is considerably colder in the tower basement and there are icicles hanging from the ceiling.

Perilake, you hear Anastaz boots on the marble floor echoing in the hall behind you. The Fae gets slowly on her knees and crawls under the partially collapsed ceiling. You have your dagger ready as you follow her. It is almost completely dark, only Zoltan's torch on the other end allows you to make out vague shapes before you. Suddenly her boot crashes into your face and she calls “Spies!” but her voice is muffled by the dust and debris around her. 

Ruined Tower

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

The helmet catches the blow, and Perilake grabs at her feet just as there is a strangled noise ahead, and she is yanked forward out of his grasp. He scrambles through the gap and sees the guard dazed, Zoltans hands clamped around her throat, bleeding from where the young knight pulled her through by her head and shoulders against the rough edges of the rock. As Perilake stands, Zoltan smashes the guard's head once more against the stone floor and her eyes roll in her skull. "Wait." Perilake holds the dagger, and puts a hand on Zoltan's shoulder, who looks up with grim determination and reads his mentor's eyes before dropping the guard's senseless body to the floor. "She may live, if Coredis is more merciful than we have been told." Perilake murmurs, as he studies her shallow breathing. Zoltan shakes his head. "We should have killed her," he mumbles. "You value their lives more than they do.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Sounds of a brief struggle reach the Dove Knight ears, as he steps outside of the ruined tower. He sighs at the fae’s foolishness and struggles to find pity in his heart for her fate. He only hopes it’ll fall on Coredis' shoulders rather than his fellow Knights. He considers the stairwell for a better view ahead, but too many steps and too little time. He resolves to seek the aid of the hawk again, as a sense of vertigo already seeps into his head. He dons the feathered glove on his left hand, and the Fox Knight can see a large peregrine falcon taking flight and drawing large circles overhead, scouting for Sivka and the other horses.

Referee

The moon is hiding behind clouds and in the darkness you see torches on the battlements and more guards illuminating hedges and statues of fawns in the park below. Beyond lies a forest shrouded in shadows. You circle over the lawns and the forest and you fold your wings and swoop down and the sheer pleasure of flying is a triumph that should never stop - and then you hear the screeching of the hawk and you follow his call. The guardian of the chapel is sitting on a branch and he is bloodied from his own injuries and those of his prey. Osier is standing between the trees, his arms raised in invocation and around him the horned stallions rear and they are foaming from their mouths.

Anastaz, when you crawl into the corridor you see a dozen guards descent the stairs. They start searching the hall.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

As he wriggles through the hole in the keep's fortifications, the Salt Knight gives a swift kick behind to help cover the brotherhood's tracks.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The peregrine falcon calls to the knights below to show them the direction Sivka's coming from, then flies north and disappears into the clouds. He reaches Batu’s shed, and taps on a frail window. When the hermit opens, he recognises the silverish wing on the hawk and understands the knights’ are coming. Tears blur his eyes, he nods and assures the hawk that he’ll be ready for them. The falcon takes flight again towards the halls of the Winter King, to tell them of Coredis' broken defences, and of the knights’ ride north.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

After crawling for what seems like ages through the tunnel to the keep's exterior, the knights emerge into the night. The moon and stars glow statically, as if closer inspection would reveal brushstrokes where they were painted onto the firmament. For a moment, the world seems to be silent, before the knights register the cacophonous sounds of night once again. Anastaz brushes fragments of slate off his tunic and looks between his comrades. "Where to?"

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake is about to answer when the cry of a falcon draws their attention, and he points at Heldris in the sky. "This way!" He snaps as he bounds towards the forest, towards his son, following the path of the hawk, which are soon replaced by the calls of the Guardian in the tree. As the group emerges he looks at the gathered beast, and Avert, who stands with a devilish, proud smile between the trees. "A small magic, to summon these beasts. Simpler even than the childish songs I learned in years past." Avert - Osier - sneers, sending a chill and an unhappy wave through Perilake at the alien arrogance. But then he sees the young man's eyes, and beneath the fierce glint there is something else - a familiar search for approval, for his fathers pride. "Well done," Perilake clasps a hand on the boys shoulder, and smiles. He looks at the group, grasping hold of a stallion. "Heldris travels to the King, to send word and open the way home for us. Ashling... if he can be trusted... said there is a way home to the southwest that the King may open for us. The Hunt will be loosed soon; we should ride fast, and hard, for home."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos casts his gaze toward the soft light of the coming dawn and his brow furrows in worry. He speaks quietly to the Salt Knight at his side. " Our enemies gather. I pray that our comrade's optimism is well-founded and the White King deigns to open the gate for us when we arrive." As he prepares to mount his steed, the Fox Knight looks back toward the Halls of Desire and spies a pinprick of light in a high wooden spire. He raises three fingers as if in a salute. Then he mounts with a sigh.

Referee

Heldris, you fly high in the sky using the alien stars and the moon to find your way north. At dawn you fold your wings and pierce through the clouds and there is movement in the ice covered bog below and you hunt small mice that change their colour to hide and turn red when you eat them. You look over to the palace on white hills and remember your task and take flight again over a bridge covered in frozen ivy towards the spires where one of your kind circles. You see a wide arched window, glassless and covered with a split hide to keep out the frost and land on a wooden ledge that juts out from the wall and you pass through the curtain and a bell rings. It smells of cedar and leather grease. Inside there are alcoves with half a dozen of your siblings and they wonder about their strange cousin. Opposite the window you see a Rusalki in cobalt silk looking up from her workbench. There is a skinned rabbit on the table and she points with her knife at you. “You are not yet a falcon and never been a Fae. Are you a spy?”

The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom XIII

Evening of the 12th day, The Halls of Desire

The splendour of the halls is unrivaled, colours of unknown desires, smells of childhood and adolescent sin, pearls spilling out of silver carafes and peacocks strutting between them and the sound of humming birds bathing in a fountain of black meteorite. On the throne sits the Elf: High above all others, an absence more than a presence and hard as you may try he remains out of focus and when he speaks you only ever remember what he said. Rusalki sit at the table below him, ministers and advisors in their robes of rain and sunshine and among them a young man with slanted eyes that stare at Ser Perilake without emotion and Avert says something in an elfin tongue and the unfocussed figure on the throne just laughs or must have laughed for that is what you remember.

If their travels had been pleasant,

you remember the Elf asking and

if they found the food to their liking

and

if it was more refined than Stribog's offerings.

The Throne Room 

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake stands before the table, and stares back at the young man. The halls seem nothing but empty noise to his eyes, the scents cloying and the banquet of delights unpalatable. He wishes Inga was with him, and he is thankful that she is not. "Avert?"

Referee

Avert looks over to the Elf who seems to have given him permission to speak. “My lord has asked you questions.” he says and his eyes are strange and cold. “It is custom in his court to answer them before addressing his subjects.” His hair is long and straight and his tunic the colour of haze.

Anastaz, you are seated next to the Elf on his elevated throne of roots and reeds and a haggard looking human in a tunic woven from clouds. “Your reputation precedes you, Salt Knight, ” the man smiles sourly “ ... although your skills appear to mainly involve hitting creatures with a mace. Personally, I don't see the point but … my liege speaks highly of you. I'm Senechal Ashling.”

Heldris and Milos, you sit next to each other on the far end of the table among Courtiers who whisper feverishly about a sacrificial meal. They relish the thought of betrayal.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Relieved to be overlooked among this company, Milos nestles into the Dove Knight's shadow. His finger traces the pattern of runes on his ivory ring as he ruminates on the Bridge Knight's taunts, mouthing the words "King's slave" to himself.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake stares for a moment longer, his face a war of emotions. Finally, a smile breaks through as he looks upon his son once more, strange as he is. "Very well; my travels have been as nothing, for at their end I have found my son. The food, I have found lacking in an ingredient that seems scarce in this kingdom. It is the company of one in this court is I seek, and I find it more pleasing by far than any decadence found in Stribog's parlour." He gathers himself, and looks around the room. "Where is Tizra, the Herald? Where is the Elf's scuttling servant, the noble courtier entrusted with the murder and theft of children?"

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris sits uncomfortably between the fairy courtiers, longing to stand besides the Gilded Knight in this moment of hardship. The quiet presence of the Fox Knight at his side allows him to keep his composure, and to find some more faith in their mission. Still, his hand clutches the dagger that lies between the folds of his tunic, as whispers of treason reach his ear. He exchanges a glance with the Salt Knight, as if to say: "We are back in the shadows, but ready to stir"

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As Perilake's words ring out across the hall, Milos breaks from his reverie and turns his attention to the dangerous dance of intrigue swirling around them. His mismatched eyes survey those gathered for any advantage they might discern.

Referee

You recall Coredis saying

Once Osier – the one they call Avert - had mastered a glamour of messenger birds the Elf had followed their travels with interest and some amusement. A father must be proud of his son's talents. Much the boy has gained and much lost.

You remember the Elf calling for Tizra and a silver platter is brought in and placed before you. A longly viper is slowly uncurling from the severed head of the Herald and slithers up the throne and whispers something to the Elf. The Elf must have said

A formidable warrior has slain his servant and the father is to be blamed. The price will be discussed after the feast.

You are lead back to your seat Avert on one side and what's left of Tizra on the other. 

 Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz subtly nods to Heldris. Turning back to the Seneschal, the corners of his mouth twitch as he says, "Fame is fickle. We humans sometimes prize odd things. What brings you here, so far from your kind?"

Referee

“I was taken by the Rusalki and mastered their craft in Stribog's Brugh” He almost spits out the last words. “And unlike most of our kind I survived ..." He stares at you with naked curiosity. “...although there are rumours of escapees in the mountains.”

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

"Stranger things have happened. Would you not wish to return to our realm, if you could?"

Referee

You see a shadow falling over Ashling's face and it contorts briefly before smoothing into a polite smile. “The realms of men are below my aspirations. My desire is to serve my liege with my craft.”

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

"Few seem to want to leave this place once they've stayed here. What is your craft, precisely?"

Referee

Somebody pours wine for you and Ashling makes an incidental gesture and when the servant leaves blood trickles from tiny cuts on her arms and face and she is not serving you again. "Spells to bind and spells to find and glamour to bring lust and pain." he says with a wicked smile but his voice is hoarse from exertion or rage.

Sir Milos, while the Fae eat liver and lung and licorice they hiss their rumours behind cupped hands. They whisper of Ashling's hatred for Osier who will become the new sorcerer in his stead and his hatred for Stribog who mistreated him and that he wants Perunja who taught him all he knows to rule the western Rusalki. They hope Coredis will find the King's mare and that they will feast on Sivka's flesh and that the Salt Knight will lead them into battle to bring down the Lord of Frost and that Spring will finally come for all.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake looks briefly at Tizra's head on the seat next to him, and finds only the barest glimmer of satisfaction in what he sees. A well deserved death. Whether it has won anything will be seen, but matters not. He thinks of Saša, the boy Anastasz could not save, and he thinks of his own son. The boy taken from him, from Inga, for what seemed so long a span but was but a season... but who knows how long here, in this thrice damned kingdom? The child thief of Bohat is dead, as it should be, however it was done. He steels himself to look at the young man next to him. "Avert... my son." His heart hammers in his chest. His son, alive. Here. The fear of losing him, the fear at what has become of him, seems overwhelming. "Our little bird..." He whispers, and beneath, there is the truth of that fear. "I am so happy to see you," a tear falls down his face, and the gilded knight's smile returns, its joy and warmth and love undimmed. His son, alive. Here.

Referee

Avert stiffens and looks down and moves delicacies around with a silver fork. “You promised … “ He pushes the plate away and folds his arms. “I was alone in my bed when the moon ...” he laughs bitterly “I speak like a child! - ... when the Herald grabbed me.” He turns towards you, angry now, his cold facade shattered.” And you did nothing!” Avert gets up abruptly and the chair of woven reeds tips over and before you can act he is out of the throne room. There is a hushed silence and Ashling sneers and the Elf must have clapped his hands because this is how you remember it and the feast concludes.

You recall that Coredis talked with passion and made demands and if they were not met the son would stay in the kingdom. Of his words you remember:

The Elf feels deeply the desire of the father to bring back his son. The father will do everything for his desire to be assuaged, yes? He will bring the mare before the Elf to be slaughtered, he will ride to Castle Frost and the Salt Knight will lead the Rusalki warriors. Only then will the spell be lifted and Osier will become Avert again.

But what if the father refuses? Will he be allowed to leave unharmed? No, he will not. The life of a servant has been taken and the Elf demands compensation. A duel perhaps or a sacrifice: A life for a life. They will be brought to their chambers where they will spend the night and tomorrow the Elf will hear their answer.

When the Elf leaves the Fae rise and bow and the peacocks shriek in panic and scatter and servants throw petals in his path and he holds a beast on a golden chain, some dangerous large cat and made of precious stone and the viper follows. Later you are in opulent chambers: lustful tapestries and canopy beds draped in brocade and incense burning in swinging censers that move on their own accord.

Anastaz' Chamber

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake remembers standing as Corelis spoke, cold fury against the hollow words. If Tizras life was the elves, then so are his debts. A life for a life has already been paid, and more yet should be paid still. He remembers the boy from bohat - both of them - in his mind alongside a memory of the Elf, cold and aloof, disinterested. He remembers the Elf staring in silence, a terrible tension in the air, and then something like a smile. Then a dismissal. A great beast on a golden chain taken in hand, and Perilake remembers watching the Elf go and thinking. How can a debt be owed for the death of nothing? And Tizra must be nothing to have been so discarded after the duel. Such a wretched thing can not possibly stand against what has been taken from his family. Perhaps... He remembers his brothers eyes, Zoltan looking with some grim satisfaction at the heralds severed head. The others, cautioning his wrath, hoping to give their own counsel. He remembers the boy, and the boy remembers him. He remembers. And so Perilake remembers following the others to these chambers, to talk.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

The knights meet in Anastaz's chambers, slightly larger than those of the others. A four-poster bed is covered in bedding of silk and satin and the down of exotic and impossible birds. Sumptuous tapestries decorate the walls. They seem to display bucolic scenes of harvest festivals, but on closer inspection, many of them depict varied kinds of blood sacrifice. Anastaz sits on a stool, the goldfalx across his knees. He worries the blade with his thumb until a single bead of blood forms and drops to the ground. "These are a cruel and unjust people, but I can set aside my own feelings to bring Avert home." He looks expectantly at Perilake.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As he closes the ornately carved wooden door, Milos notices that it depicts a knight kneeling before a white haired Fae Lord in a bucolic forest setting. He sighs heavily in recognition and closes his eyes briefly to collect himself. Then he begins to search the room for signs that they are being watched by their host. Sentient eyes looking out from the woodwork or sigils of hearing hidden in the feathers of the birds. After a quick survey, he says "I believe we can speak freely here."

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake nods gratefully at the Fox Knight. "They are unjust, but quick to speak of justice, to invoke it in their own skewed fashion" Perilake frowns. "And unlike our own kingdom, they seem bound to their words by more than honour. Perhaps... perhaps there lies a snare they have set for themselves. When they speak of justice, they bind themselves to those terms. And in their arrogance, they cannot see the weight of the scales set against them." "Tizra was slain." He smiles grimly. "And the Elf calls that a crime, a life that belonged to him taken without his consent. But Tizra was nothing to him, an exiled scapegoat for his failed ambitions, discarded and left to inflict greater harm on our people... on our children." He paces. "If Tizra still belonged to Corelis, then the Elf must pay the outstanding balance before he can invoke any debt. Not just for Sasa and Avert, but for breaching what he swore to in the Duel of Seasons." "If Tizra was nothing, then there can be no insult - and Avert cannot even have been gifted by a thief." He sighs. "I am not sure of the straight path here, but we have seen that these creatures work in crooked logic. Where they contradict themselves, they are vulnerable... and perhaps they leave a path for my son to return to his mother" There is a silence in the room as they all consider Perilakes words, his last barely a whisper. After a moment, Zoltan rises, and hugs Perilake fiercely, before holding him at arms length. "He looks like Inga, though he now has his father's fierce temper." Zoltan smiles at his former master, and Perilake smiles back, pride surging forth even in these strange times. "I am glad we have found the little bird too, my lord... my friend."

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

"Shall we demand a trial for the Elf's crimes, then?"

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The Dove Knight sighs, a worried look upon his tired face. “But who will judge them? We stand in their court, and twisted as their logic might be, I fear we have no power to hold them accountable.” He recovers his usual temper, as if the words just uttered had shaken off his fears. “But it is worth a try,” he considers, “after all, riddles and old oaths have opened up a path for us only this morning over the bridge, although the stakes weren't as high as they are now.” A drop of blood falls from Anastaz’s goldfalx, staining the the light floorboards. “I’d be willing to take the shape of the hawk and call to the Winter King for aid. Although I’m afraid even the walls have eyes in this sad palace, and acting in secret might be hard to achieve."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos frowns at the suggestion and glances at the carved door again. The Lord now has his hands around the knight's throat. "I fear we are already too beholden to the White King and have yet to reckon what he may ask for in return." He turns to Anastaz with a tilt of his head and a questioning look. "I saw you in conversation with the Seneschal. He has reason to wish Avert gone and Stribog humiliated. Do you think we could bargain with him for aid on either of these matters? He may know how to loosen the Elf's hold on Avert or vex the Hunt."

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz strokes his chin. "I would not trust the Seneschal as far as I could throw him. But if it serves his interest, he may be inclined to help. Who knows what his spells can do."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox Knight smiles mischievously. "I suspect you could throw him surprisingly far if it came to it, my friend."

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

The Salt Knight's mouth twists into something almost resembling a smile. "If we want his help, a lighter touch than mine may be required."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"A shame, for I'd liked to have seen it." He shrugs wistfully. "In any case, I can seek out the wizard and attempt a negotiation if you like."

Winding Stairs 

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"These rumours, that Avert is to replace him, and that he does not want to be replaced. That he wishes to usurp Stribolg for his mentor...There must be some truth to them." Perilake frowns. "This wizard is no friend, but he could be of use. Perhaps he can end this glamour... or no, that would risk his lord's wrath. But we offer a way to keep his hands clean of involvement." His eyes fall on the ring upon Milos's finger. "As for the King... I do not believe he merely waits for our word to strike, if he could end his enemy so. Perhaps like Barowia, he has other concerns than mere strength. Perhaps there is some secret that would free his arm, win allies, or break the strength of his rival." He scowls. "I care not who rules this kingdom. I am aligned with the King only so long as it serves. No further was promised and no further has been given; he has his whispers, and we had brave Sivka. He does not have my service, or yours." Perilake looks around at the others, his gaze resting perhaps for a longer moment on Milos. "But if we find something.... then we will send word, Heldris. For now, we must learn what we can." He rises, and Zoltan rises beside him, knowing where Perilake is going. The older knight turns to say something, and Zoltan merely shakes his head, softly, and mumbles something, inaudible to any but the one who listened for those many years. Perilake smiles, and nods in return. "Our family..." He murmurs, before turning to the other knights. "I will speak to Avert. Whatever glamour this is, I must try."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos steps forward. "Go, my friend, with all our blessings. The human heart has a power that no Fae magic can reckon with. It is why they seek us out and torment us so." He points toward the Gilded Knight's chest. "Reach for him from here, from the terrible pain of losing him, from the deep yearning for his return. Let your broken heart guide you."

Referee

Ser Perilake, outside the door a servant with pearls in her hair for clothes is waiting for you. “My lord doesn't want you to get lost.” she says and takes Zoltan's hand. The air is lacquered with incense, rich and heady, and her bare feet step lightly on fine rugs. You climb winding stairs of great halls where stars are painted on the ceiling and colourful birds fly freely and you walk passed doors behind which there is a chorus of sighs and moans of pleasure. There are no windows and no way to orient yourself and high up in the palace you turn into another corridor. A solitary guard, a season destroyer in smoothbark armour, watches you approach, hand on the hilt of her goldfalx. “Only one guest at a time” she says and opens the door for Perilake. A chandelier of candles illuminates shelves of books and scrolls and the young man they call Osier is watched by many birds in cages as he is standing in a bow window bent over a silver bowl filled with water. He mutters elfin words and his hair hangs straight down, obscuring his face.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"The birds here are beautiful." Perilake says as he quietly walks into the room. "When I first arrived here, they sang to me in a voice sweeter still for how I had missed it." He waits for the young man to turn and face him. "Their song changed though, perverted by another. This seemed like mere days to me. But... I fear it has been much longer." His voice shakes, the horror and sadness of these long months breaking through the courage and single-mindedness that has carried him here. The sorrow and the shame that were luxuries he could not afford, indulgences that would only slow him in his quest. He steadies himself, and reaches into his pouch for a small wooden falcon, carefully varnished and cherished, placing it down upon a small table between them. "That song scared me when I first heard it, but it made me proud, and it gave me hope. Even when it was twisted, it was a sign." He sits at the table before the young man. "Please, tell me. What do you remember? Tell me of my son, and what has become of him since Tizra's magicks stole him away."

Referee

Osier touches the surface of the water with a briar and for a moment you see the hawk with bloodied wings hacking with his beak at a raven and something very white below the canopy and then the image is gone. He picks up the falcon and turns it in his hands. “I remember being a child riding on wooden stick and a man with many scars laughing … what was his name …?” He shakes his head and you see him frowning and then there is a proud glint in his slanted eyes. “Now I ride warhorses if I wish to, with brocade saddles and silver reins and sometimes a jade panther when my lord allows it.” He looks down at the toy with a sad smile. "What happened to your son?" Osier puts the falcon carefully on the table next to the bowl. "He grew up."

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake stands and walks to the bowl, peering down, staring at their reflections in the now still water. "He grew up, here. Away from those who love him still." Perilake lets a finger trace the water and sighs. "And he has grown up as I knew he would; strong, and sharp. You wield these magics, yes? I have seen it. I have heard it. Your mother would be as proud as I am, standing before you now. As would the man with the scars." Perilake smiles in memory. "His name is Bartek, and he misses you. Losing you... has left such pain." He spreads his palms, and looks down at the jagged, ill-healed scar. He remembers the bite of the steel, the pain, the rush of blood, but still not enough to wash away the enchantment of Tizra. Still not enough to save his son. He notices Osier - Avert - looking at the cut quizzically. Years have passed for them, but this injury is near fresh, mere months. "They say it would have healed cleanly if I had let it. But there was no time, for me. You were out there, and you were alone." His voice catches, and his chest heaves, and his shoulders tremble, and his voice is a whisper. "I have wondered if I could have broken Tizra's spell by severing the entire hand, but that was as beyond my power as moving more than mere inches." He blinks away the tears in his eyes, and masters himself. "You would fare better, I think. A wizard, a master of magics. You have power that I have never known; it is not just Coredis and his tricks. Would you... would you show me?"

Referee

“I would have made Tizra ... “ he hisses the name” … choke on his own tongue and watch him suffocate!” He is more Rusalki than ever now as he looks at you with cruel eyes and arrogant smile and his hair is long and straight like a fall of dark brown water. “I am not as strong as Ashling or Perunja, his mistress, but I can can show you my talents. What do you want me to weave?”

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"I believe my son will be stronger still." Perilake says sombrely. "And I believe that Tizra is fortunate that it was my justice that found him, not yours. I apologise for taking it from you." He sighs, and looks into his son's eyes and the cruelty there, where once there was only warmth and kindness. "Is it within your power to view the past? To view another's memory, if it is freely given."

Referee

He hesitates, “I cannot see beyond the bounds of the Thrice-Ninth Kingdom and I have never tried to steal the memory of anyone ...” Osier places the briar in your scarred hand and closes his fist around it until the thorns pierce your skin and blood drips onto the carpet. “But if it is freely given, I believe I can.”

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake nods, and clenches his fist around the thorns deeper still, as he goes deeper into his broken heart. The fear, the helplessness, the loss. The powerlessness. The searching, the hope, the horror. And beyond, further, as the paths of memory tangle the sweet and the sharp. The faces of Bartek, of Inga, of his uncles, of all of Farkash and the boy they doted on. Of a world more humble but more whole than this. Of stable cats, no jade panthers but fierce in their affections for the boy who brought scraps. Of Blacwyn, a mighty steed that still ate sugarlumps from a small hand, and allowed himself to be led on reins of leather. Of the mother who waits, who hopes, who believes that she will be reunited. And of the sheer joy at being able to breathe again, that his heart is once more within reach after the long nights of fear and loss. All of this pours from Perilake's hand into the still waters of the basin, and with a word and a gesture from Avert, they take shape; the blur of images surge forwards, alongside a mist that contains sounds and scents and swirls around the young mage, the heady vapours carrying yet more as they are inhaled.

Referee

Osier gently reaches out and touches Inga's face and waves distort the vision of her on the surface of the water. “Is that Avert's mother?” he whispers. “They must have ...” He looks away. You still hear echoes of her laughter and the smell of her room lingers even after the memory has faded from the scrying bowl. “If I stay I will become the strongest sorcerer of this generation, stronger than Ashling, stronger even than the Weaver. If I leave ...” You can see his reflection in the window and the strange, slanted eyes look back at you. “Don't you want to be proud of me, father?”

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"I already am. And so is she; all I want is to see you together again." Perilake takes the young mans hand. "You are my son. That is your mother. You must know, learned as you, that you are under a spell. I am sure in time you would be the strongest sorcerer, but I believe the chains of Coredis would only grow stronger still."

Referee

He wrestles his hand free, rushes over to the shelves and begins dropping scrolls and books into a satchel. “Nobody binds me!“ he spits, “When do we leave?”

Somewhere within the Halls of Desire

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As the door shuts behind the Gilded Knight, Milos turns to his comrades. "Our friend is on a noble errand to regain his son's heart but I think he dismisses the power of Fae contract magic too breezily. We need to gather leverage to even the scales in our dealings with both the King and the Elf. I will seek out Ashling to that end."

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

"Yes, I fear you're right." The Dove Knight grabs a candle from a drawer and lights it. "I'll walk the palace hallways. Much is hidden in broad daylight here, that might very well reveal itself at night." He nods to his friends. "Be careful, and remember: if you need my help, I'll know."

Referee

Anastaz, when you leave your chambers a servant wearing diamonds in her hair for clothes bows before you. “Please allow me to take you to my lord.” she says and her hands are smooth and soft as she leads you through the Halls of Desire until you reach a garden where dragonflies with golden wings hover between lilies, tall as trees. The Elf stands very close to you, the viper winding itself around his legs like a cat. You feel his gaze rest upon you.

He was hoping for a meeting with the Salt Knight.

He must have said.

An agreement can be reached for the father and the son, if only the Knights would consider his offer: To give up an old mare and to fight a quick war against his enemy, a single battle really against tired soldiers. The insolence of killing one of his servants in his own halls will be forgiven and the Knights will be allowed to return unharmed.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

"The Gilded Knight and I have been speaking about the Elf's actions," the Salt Knight says. "He takes credit for the actions of a cast-away servant, and takes offense at his death. Yet he does not claim responsibility for his misdeeds. Either the Elf is guilty of the kidnapping of Avert and the murder of Šaša, or the Elf has no right to keep Avert here and waylay us." "We have no quarrel that cannot be mended. If Avert is returned to his father, we will leave this realm for good. I am even willing to return the Bow of Harvest."

"But if the Elf insists on keeping Avert in the Halls of Desire, he must also answer for Tizra's crimes."

Referee

The viper hisses angrily at Anastaz words and the Elf is quiet for a while or if he talked you cannot remember what he said. You do recall him saying

The Elf regrets the confusion the human is labouring under. The Elf will do what he pleases in his own halls. Is there anything else the human wants to say?

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz sighs and looks down at the viper. "We need not be enemies," he says, almost sadly. And with that, he departs.

Referee

Milos, you are lead by a servant through the palace, he is wearing a silver tiara for clothes and he is very beautiful. “My lord doesn't want you to wander the halls alone, lest you lose your way.” he says and takes your hand. There is a chorus of moans and sighs of pleasure behind every door and you climb spiral staircases of silver and grand marble steps until you reach a courtyard high in the palace and a spire made of wood and a wooden flight of stairs until you reach an antechamber with mechanical birds dipping their beaks into a fountain and a season destroyer with his hand at the hilt opens the door. Ashling is sitting in a bow window staring into a silver bowl. Without looking up he says: “You are not the first spy the Winter King has sent. What do you want?”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos cocks his head to one side. "You speak quite plainly for a denizen of Faerie. Let me be equally direct and not waste your time or mine. You want Osier removed from the board. We want to take him home. You want to see Stribog humbled. What better way than humiliating him with a failed Hunt. Such a blow would open the way for Perunja to depose him as leader of the Western Rusalki. Therefore, I propose a temporary but mutually beneficial arrangement between us. What say you?"

Referee

“You have your plans, little fox, but alas between the wish and the thing the world lies waiting” the sorcerer says staring intently into the bowl before leaning back, apparently pleased with what he saw. He looks curiously into your discoloured eyes. “Tell me, how did the Winter King trick you?”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"Ah, so we are playing the game of answering a question with another question. I will again follow your lead then. My story with the Winter King is an intimate one and the telling may make me blush." He sits across from the wizard at the window and looks out on the pastoral view, as if we could see in the distance the looming threat of winter. "I wonder what you saw in your scrying bowl that brought you such satisfaction just now? Mayhap we trade stories?"

Referee

“We can trade stories … ” Ashling pours wine into a cup and slides it over.“ … but I have no interest in the details. The halls provide enough pleasures of the flesh and I know the King can be very alluring in his hidden grove.” He leans back again and shadows obscure his face. “A guerdon for a gift: Osier yearns to return home, I gather from my bowl, and he is willing to abandon the Elf.” His voice is hoarse and you sense that he is suppressing a strong emotion but you only see his eyes glinting in the darkness and he is impossible to read. “Now you: Your lord can summon you whenever he pleases but instead he opened a portal for you and your brothers. What was his demand?”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Upon hearing the news of Avert, the Fox Knight sighs inwardly in relief. Perilake's appeal reached the boy. To Ashling he replies simply: "That my body would feed his realm."