The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom VI

Morning of the 6th day, a cave

Mist rises over the frozen lake when you leave the cave at dawn. The white mare leads you down a winding mountain path and the world is hidden in the fog as if it hasn't been fully formed yet. After some time there is a glow in the mist and you pass an elder tree split by lightning and still burning inside. From afar you hear music of a kind you haven't heard before, the sound of harps and flutes and a swelling of inhuman voices shrill and wild and although you don't understand the words you feel a wicked celebration of past cruelties. Then you reach a hill on a meadow with a wooden gate adorned with antlers and rich carvings of leaves and berries. The music stops and the door opens and Adler is waiting for you.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

After a moment of silence, the Dove Knight approaches the Fae: “Greetings Adler,” He turns to his comrades with an hesitant look and back to the Fae. “We have come to seek shelter and rest, and the means to recover our spirits, as agreed between us on the day before yesterday.”

Referee

Now that the gate is open, the entrance to the Brugh resembles a mouth and its throat is dark. There is a heavy smell of Hyacinth and exotic spices wafting from the halls beyond. Adler is showing their teeth again, their lips red from wine: “Ah but we agreed to so much more, a feast for the body … and the soul.” They gesture you to enter but remain at the entrance. “Stribog is waiting for you.”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As Milos passes Adler and crosses the threshold, he sings in a soft but clear voice:

By step and breath, we cross your line 

As guests, not thieves, by ancient sign. 

What’s freely given, we receive, 

And leave you whole when we take our leave.

The Twilight of the Corridor

Referee

You hear Sivka whinnying worriedly behind you as you enter. Your eyes adjust to the twilight of the corridor and you get a glimpse of the Rusalki in their robes of unearthly colours lining the walls and eyeing you with curiosity. They resemble the androgynous Adler only more visibly male or female, with long black hair and blue slanted eyes. You feel warm hands reaching out for you and lightly touching your faces and arms and legs with their fingertips. After you have passed they follow you into a great hall, smoke-filled from a roaring fire and a perfectly round banquet table woven from roots and reeds and chairs of the same make. On an antlered throne sits their master in a robe of ivory rain. You are taken to your seats among Rusalki on both sides of you and far away from each other. Stribog gestures Perilake to join him at the front of the table.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

As the Knights are herded to their seats, Anastaz finds himself seated beside a particularly lanky, almost spider-like Rusalki. The... man picks up a cord from a strange-looking apparatus on the table, sucks on it for a few seconds, and offers it to the Salt Knight, who waves it away. The Rusalki exhales a cloud of fragrant blue smoke directly into Anastaz's face, and smiles a wide rictus grin before returning to another conversation.

Referee

Heldris, the Rusalki next to you is served a platter from a human slave in gaudy clothes and with candles in his hair. “Broth boiled liver from rare songbirds, a delicacy reserved for special occasions” the Rusalki purrs, her robes the colour of verdigris clouds. When the slave pours wine into her goblet he spills a couple of drops and she slaps him without much force but with a blinding speed. “Foolish creature” she hisses and then she turns around to you smiling. She is young and very beautiful and her skin is unblemished and almost translucent: “I am Vesper. ” Behind her you see the slave scurrying away to bring more wine. ”Few plump folk visit us willingly and even fewer return to tell the tale. How do you like the Thrice-Ninth Kingdom?”

Perilake, a Rusalki approaches Stribog and whispers something in his ears and then steps back. She is older than the chief and her robes are woven from shadows. “Your fame precedes you, Perilake. The knight who sacrificed his golden armour, the father who travelled to Elfland, the man who would do everything to save his son. And now you are riding the King's famous mare." He leans forward. "What do you say Gilded Knight: Trade me the mare and I retrieve your golden armour for you from beyond the twilight.”

Milos, you hear the murmurings around the table, Stribog and Perilake in conversation, Anastaz sharing some kind of pipe with a spindly Fae with long spider-like fingers and the Rusalki on your left side turning away to face Heldris, the one on the other side laughing at something and then focussing his attention back to the delicacies on his plate. You are isolated from your brothers and ignored by the Rusalki. There is movement on the stage in the centre of the round table. The music is about to start again.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"My armour...." Perilake picks up a fine cup from the table, filigreed leaves of gold and bronze, and studies his reflection in the shining metal for a second. "In this land of twisted reflections, it would indeed be a fine thing to wear my own skin, my own name." He sets it down carefully on the table, and tosses his mane of silvery-gold back with a dismissive smile. "But you know my answer, I am sure. The armour is mine now, but it was a gift from another. I do not accept such things lightly, and I do not spend them or bargain them lightly. Much like the horse." His warmth drains briefly, a glint of murderous fury beneath the rekindled charm and courtly manners. "You know the only deal that would truly tempt me. But you do not hold what I desire, do you?" He takes a long drink of the sweet, rich wine, and his seeming of good cheer is restored by the time the cup returns to the table. "Still, we can make a bargain of sorts. You tell me of Sivka, and her fame." He nods toward Anastasz. "And I will tell you how Elves die."

Stribog briefly contemplating to strike down Ser Perilake for his insolence

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris frowns at Vesper’s rudeness toward the servant. “I found a harsh and inhospitable land thus far,” he replies. “I would hope to find less harshness in its inhabitants…” He observes the dish in front of him, and although put off by its introduction, its smell is soft and delicate. He tries a spoonful and his mouth is swarmed by a complex taste, rich and spiced and elegant. He meets the servant’s eye and, making sure to be seen by the Rusalki, he thanks them with a kind bow of the head. "Tell me, Vesper, how come humans are here in your service, displaced from their own world?"

Referee

She nods in agreement. “Yes, it is harsh … in winter! But you should see it in spring when the meadows bloom or in harvest, golden and decaying.” She follows your gaze at the slave pouring wine for Sir Milos. “Some are stolen from your Realm, some are saved from freezing." She adds casually, "well ... the ones too weak to be hunted.“ She points with her cup at a young human man on the stage, his eyes closed and a flute at his lips. ”This one made a bargain. He came here willingly to serve and to learn."

Perilake, Stribog looks at you incredulously for a moment and then he laughs “I like your boldness. Your kind is often too scared to be bold or too foolish to be taken seriously and you are not scared ... but you will find us difficult to kill.” He is as slender as Adler but even taller. He leans back again and closes his eyes, swirling the wine with his many-ringed hand. ”Aah Sivka ... wiser than most Rusalki witches, braver than our warriors and as swift as a hunting hawk - she saved the King more times than you can count on your fingers.” He opens his eyes and licks his lips. “ … but there are old … traditions. Rituals to bring in the new age that include sacrifices of that which is holy and pure. What do you want in exchange for the King's mare?”

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"Surely your kind is not so blind that the question even needs asking?" He laughs. "Even the most scared or foolish peasant would know the answer. Perhaps you do not even know what you are lacking." Perilake's tone is light, seemingly amused. Even the implied insult seems complimentary behind the smile. "My son, safe and home with his mother. That is the only exchange I look for."

Referee

Stribog eyes glint and he smiles coldly. “I am bound by traditions and my honour as your Hospodar to protect you as long as you are a guest in my halls… but I will not suffer the insolence of a fool.” He makes a sweeping gesture at the assembled Rusalki and growls. “Sometimes my people become restless, they yearn to indulge in the great hunt.” He looks at you with narrowed eyes. “But … we are also a forgiving and patient race when dealing with the slow travellers. I will deliberate with my Lord and he will have to decide if your demands can be met. But for now let's forget about politics and enjoy the Feast.” He claps his hand and shouts. “Play us a measure!”

Anastaz, a beautiful young Rusalki in a dress the colour of a glittering aurora grabs your hands and tries to pull you up with surprising strength. “Would it please you to tread a round, valiant Knight?”

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz allows the Fae to lead him with a grunt of agreement.

Referee

The music starts to swell, the same unearthly sounds you heard before: a slow beating of the drum and the glissando of the harp punctuated with shrill flute whistles, and one after the other the Rusalki get up to form a circle. A singer on the stage calls out and the dancing Fae answer and their singing is wicked and inhuman. The Rusalki in her robes the colour of verdigris clouds asks Heldris and the older woman dressed in shadows who whispered to Stribog extends her hand to Perilake. Only Milos remains seated for now.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As Milos eats the lavish meal alone, he listens to the carefree laughter of the Rusalki and an old wound deep in his heart is pricked by some cruel thorn. It bleeds anew and a memory of childhood loneliness seeps out with it. A red haired boy, neglected by all around him and left to grow wild, yearning for a playmate and convinced that he must not deserve one. The weight of it threatens to leave Milos vulnerable and in despair. But he is suddenly woken from the reverie by a sharp chill emanating from the ivory ring on his hand. The cold brings clarity to his mind and he remembers himself, he is the Fox Knight and he dines in dangerous company. Milos gleans the nature of the glamour being used against him and rather than resist it, he leans into the magic and amplifies it. If he is to be ignored, he will be so completely. The Fox Knight slips silently from his chair and begins a hunt of his own. He weaves the strands of the enchantment more tightly around himself as he stalks the Rusalki themselves. “I am no one. I am beneath notice” he tells himself as he circulates among the merry makers. And his ears listen attentively to everything he hears, every rustle of the leaves of discontent, every betrayal of true intent in these naturally duplicitous creatures. Always ready to pounce and devour whatever is carelessly left exposed to him.

Referee

The Rusalki dance around you in their baroque circles, pairs holding hands and letting go and being united again by inscrutable patterns, singing and laughing and breathlessly whispering their secrets. You pick up fragments of conversations, rumours of Stribog's pride and desire for an elfin heirloom that might cement his legacy. You hear a name whispered in fear: Perunja, the Weaver, who holds some power over him and that once she has recovered fully she will become the chieftain - of that they are all convinced and they all yearn for spring and tasting the white mare's flesh.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

As the dance increases in speed, Anastaz realizes the agility necessary to properly participate in the festivities. Locking hands with his partner at one point, he asks. "You are quite adept at this, stranger. For how long have you been a guest in Striborg's court?"

Referee

“I am not a guest” she says breathlessly “I am born here” and smiles at you over her shoulder as you are taken away from her by other dancers taking her place and when you are united again she adds “Who would have thought that I would one day dance with Elfbane, who slew the mighty Season Destroyers and travelled to the Thrice-Ninth Kingdom to kill the Elf.” She laughs, touching your face lightly and is whisked away again. The next time your hands rejoin she asks “Will you become the next Steward of Seasons … “ Her lips touch your ear as she whispers” … and who will be your queen?”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos spies upon the dancers with open interest, standing in plain sight but unnoticed. The musicians play a sweet seductive melody in the Lydian mode, redolent with dreams of long-awaited springtime pleasures. A mischievous smile crosses the Fox Knight’s face as he regards the imperious bearing of the Rusalki lords and ladies. He retrieves his pennywhistle from his pocket, brings it to his lips, and closes his eyes in concentration. At first, he plays delicate notes that weave in an unassuming high counterpoint to the melody. The dance continues unabated and not even the musicians notice the new voice. Then the Fox subtly shifts his playing and the notes become akin to a frozen wind whistling through a high mountain pass. The ivory ring glows softly on his hand as he plays and gently illuminates his face with a ghoulish white light. With clever half-holing and cross-fingering, Milos creates a counter melody in the Locrian mode, dissonant and disturbing, never finding rest or pleasant resolution. It evokes images of a late frost cruelly nipping the tender buds of a naively hopeful spring.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake nods at the Rusalki in her shadow-woven robes, and takes her hand, joining her on the floor. The steps are strange and quick, but such things have always come easily to Perilake. For the first time however, the spring of his steps is not matched in his heart. He rotates through the ball with a measured and precise alacrity, and only his brothers would mark that there is none of the ebullient cheer that graced even the most meager celebration in their youth. As he dances, he enquires of his umbral opposite. "I see Stribog values your whispers and words, my lady." They step around each other, and back again. "Perhaps you can tell me the truth of those I have heard, even from the very birds themselves." "Is it true that Tizra has won the pleasure of his master once more?"

Vesper

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The Dove Knight politely accepts the Rusalki’s hand, and joins her in the dance. As her verdigris robes flutter nimbly, he struggles to follow her; his iron arm hanging clumsily on her shoulder. “Tell me,” he says, out of breath, “what can you tell me about the Winter King? No love lost between them and your master, it seems.”

Referee

She looks at you coldly. “We don't love. Love is for the plump folk … we Rusalki desire and crave.” She passes under an arch of outstretched arms and twirls and adds “The Voyvod of a wolf pack is challenged when he is getting old, there is no love for him nor the challenger.” The dance brings you very close together now and she quickly bites your lip still staring at you without sympathy. “ I believe you too enjoy to snap at your foes when they are weak, don't you?” A trickle of blood runs down your chin.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

The Salt Knight does not seem to react to the ethereal lady's provocations. "It would not be place to dominate your people. There is much still to do in Barowia."

Referee

“You are too modest, Salt Knight. Your cruelty is well known – and valued! - among men and Rusalki both ... they say you even killed your lover, is it true? Besides some of us wouldn't mind to be dominated by a human, better you than the child who ...” but she doesn't finish her thoughts and just smiles with filed teeth.

Milos, to your surprise you realise that one of the musicians has picked up your frosty melody and adds wintery patterns like rigid snowflakes to the Ceilidh dance. When you look at the stage a young human man, playing the flute, chirps a flourish like a quick icy gale that seems to warn and greet you at the same time but he doesn't look up. His hair is long and straight like a fall of dark brown water fashioned in the way of the Rusalki. An angry shrill sound of several pipes from the other flautists try to melt your frost with late spring Fohn and snow eater winds and the young man falls in line with them.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz grimaces. "It is a long story, and not suited for a celebration."

Referee

Perilake, the old Rusalki moves more stiffly than her kind. Her eyes are milky blue by age and for a moment it seems you are looking into Sivka's eyes but without the humour. “Tizra is a fool and the Elf despises the weak.” She curls her lips. “They say he has a new champion now, a talented boy he teaches his craft: Your son, Gilded Knight.” The room around you seems to darken and tendrils of shadows flicker around you. “They say the boy is becoming more Fae every day, wild and bloodthirsty, he killed a bird that refused to obey him.” “Hurry my golden Knight” she hisses, “or it will be too late to save him.” The shadows retreat and a young Rusalki has taken the place of the old one. When you look around she stands next to Stribor again whispering something in his ears.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos takes note of the warning as well as the moment of fellowship. He lowers his instrument and shutters his mischief for the moment. Then the Fox slips away from the centre of the revelry and toward the dark warren of tunnels that lead off of the great hall. He wonders what more he might glean by stealth in this place.

Referee

You grab a candle off the banquet table and follow a narrow, curving hall that is stretching out of sight. After a while you pass under a low arch inscribed with elfin runes and shadows move in the corner of your eye and there is a stillness around you, the unbearable loneliness of being cut off from the beating, breathing world outside. Then two passageways cross and you feel a sense of vertigo like when you spin around and around and suddenly stop and you are questioning which way you came and there are no footprints in the dust of the large natural stones of the floor.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox Knight slows to a stop at the juncture of the passageways, takes a breath, and gathers his wits. A Fae labyrinth, then. Not a puzzle to be solved by clever turns or careful marks, but an invitation to conversation, and possibly revelation. He begins with a deep bow to the place that holds him. “Well met. I walk without claim and take no path that is not given. Lead me in this dance and I will follow.” Then he closes his eyes and listens to the silence, feels into the stillness. Which direction feels patient? Where does the air feel like it is waiting for him? He senses deeply into the inscrutable stirrings of his body, long attuned to the fancies of the Fae.

Referee

It is utterly silent. Whatever glamour is placed upon the labyrinth silences the music from the great hall and you only hear your own breathing. Nothing moves and the air is cold and still. You feel the wax from the candle drip onto your hand and you welcome the pain as the only anchor that prevents you from losing yourself. The walls seem to despise you, the ceiling wants to crush you and an unconquered fear from your past seeps into your soul.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

From within the silence, Milos hears the unmistakable rasping cough that punctuated his mother’s last days in this world. His heart constricts with pain at a child’s memory of seemingly endless days at her deathbed. Helplessness and despair threaten to overwhelm him. But from somewhere else inside him arises his mother’s voice singing him a time-worn lullaby. A sweet golden light warms his chest and melts the grip of the terrible memory. As he regains his senses, the Fox Knight's mouth tightens in anger at the unprovoked cruelty of the assault and his green eyes harden with resolve. "If you do not answer courtesy, then I will not offer it." He turns and follows the passageway to the left. As he walks, he runs his left hand along the wall, never breaking contact with it. And he sings the ancient lullaby aloud, in open defiance of the malice emanating from the labyrinth walls. Daring it to challenge him directly.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Suddenly, the Dove Knight’s head starts to spin. At first, he thinks the fast paced dance and the wine are getting to his head, but he soon notices a strange feeling of loneliness and abandonment lurking underneath his physical discomfort. “The Fox... trapped…” he mumbles an excuse to Vesper, and moves away from the dance and toward the mouth of a dark tunnel. “Sir Milos!” His voice echoes slowly, unnaturally, throughout the eerie darkness.

A narrow, curving Hall

Referee

You stumble through a group of dancers who turn their heads as you pass, the taste of your own blood on your lips and you call for your brother, the shrill pipes and unearthly choir in your ears. The Rusalki start whispering to each other.

Milos, over the sweet lullaby you sing, you hear a faint calling of your name, stronger than the glamour put upon you. You sense the alien nature of the corridors around you, thousands of years of woven spells and cruelty from deeper within the labyrinth. It might hold ancient wisdom and riches but it won't give it away freely.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox harkens to the sound of his name drifting across the black void. He recognizes the voice of his dear comrade and catches the familiar musky scent of wolf on the air. His spirit warms in response to the call and turns toward it, following the lingering scent and the soft echo like Ariadne’s thread to guide him out of this forsaken place.

Somewhere along the endless path of twisting turns, the candle burns its last and Milos continues on through the darkness led only by the Dove Knight's call. Then finally he sees his comrade at the end of a tunnel as if he is looking down a deep well. The Fox quickens his pace and stumbles through the carved archway into Heldris' arms. Holding him in a fierce embrace, he says "You have again saved me when I was most lost." Then he turns and spits at the base of the archway and utters a curse: "You are corrupt and without courtesy. May you never enjoy commerce with another being and rot in your own malice forever." With an exhausted sigh, he leans on his friend and looks out toward the continuing festivities. "Come, I crave the warmth of your noble companionship, and something strong to drink."

Referee

You return to the banquet and taste the spiced wine and watch the dancers. In the course of the night the music becomes stranger, the droning of bone shaking horns resonates with the sound of pipes and drums and cries of the Wild Fae. Ever wilder they dance, Stribog in their midst, laughing and singing and sparks flying from his eyes, while the Lady of Shadows watches silently from the throne. Ever higher they leap and one after the other approaches and urges you to dance with them, pleading and touching your hands and faces and whispering promises they don't intend to keep and their eyes shine from pure bliss.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake finds the music and the dancing not to his tastes, though the food is fine enough. But the true feast this evening has been intelligence. As the festivities continue, he passes Zoltan, engaged in a tryst with two Rusalki youths. He pauses a moment to observe, and judges that the pigeon knights revelries are for their own sake, not some ploy by these Rusalki. Perilake then makes his way to Sivkas stable. In the dark quiet, he whispers what he has learned to the Winter Kings Steed...

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

After the Fox Knight reappears from the dark corridor, the Dove Knight feels too tired to dance. He sits at the table with his comrade and observes the dancing and the plotting that is going around the hall, sipping some sweet fortified wine. After a while, he longs for some fresh air, and steps outside to watch the strange firmament that shine over Elfland. A longing for home replaces that of fresh air, and his thoughts go to his dear Hedwig and young Annegrit, he wonders how well she fares in the service of Lady Gundhilde.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

As the festivities wind down in the wee hours of the morning, the Salt Knight finds himself before a roaring fire, recounting the tale of his duel with the Iron Knight to a small group of Rusalki. The crowd seems evenly divided between those disappointed at Anastaz's lack of open bloodthirst and those - including his erstwhile dance partner - delighted by the ironic turn of events and the fickle nature of fate.

Referee

The Brothers of the Black Fleece meet at the open hearth, Zoltan, Perilake, Heldris and Anastaz and talk for a while and fall asleep one after the other under wolf pelts.

It must be close to dawn when the last dancers slip to the ground and only the sound of a lone flute can be heard playing a simple shepherd's song that feels like a cool breeze after the feverish night.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

At first, Milos stays close to Heldris in quiet conversation but when the Dove Knight excuses himself to go out for some air, the Fox ventures out onto the dance floor with a colorful series of Rusalki partners - male and female, transitioning easily between leading to following. As the night wears on, the Rusaliki seem less intent on intrigue and more abandoned in their own merriment. As the first hint of dawn approaches, Milos reclines satiated by the feast and the evening's strange dances, complicated ballets of both body and mind. He listens to the flautist's tune and feels relief in its simple humanity, so unlike the baroque convolutions of the Fae. The Fox Knight clambers delicately across the spent bodies of the Rusalki and makes his way next to the lone flautist. He pulls out his pennywhistle again and plays some delicate notes in a plaintive harmony high above the shepherd's song. After the last note fades in the quiet hall, he smiles warmly at the young man, in thanks for the musical fellowship they have shared this night. Then with outstretched hand, offers invitation to something more...

A dream

Sir Anastaz, the Salt Knight, dreams his favourite memory of childhood

but when he wakes up

he can't remember what he dreamt

and he will never have that dream again.

The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom V

Morning of the 5th day, an abandoned hut in the mountains

Zoltan wakes you up with herbal tea and a thin mushroom soup with the last of the meat. “We'll have enough for the rest of the day, after that ...” He smiles “Maybe it's a good thing that we have to make room for the delicacies of the Feast.” When you leave the hut before dawn Sivka - almost invisible in the thick fog - greets you with a friendly snort. Once or twice she pulls at the reins when Zoltan would have lead you astray and after a couple of hours you find the path to the overhang where you spend your first night. In the course of the morning the fog thickens. Zoltan urges you to touch the rock lest you might step into the abyss and as if to illustrate the consequences of falling a large moth the size of a bird of prey and with skulls on its wings silently glides alongside the path and disappears into the fog. In the afternoon you reach the plateau but you can't see past your outstretched arms.

A light wind thins out the fog as you leave the plateau. Ser Perilake is leading Sivka down a steep and narrow trail towards the scree slope. The old mare paws the ground. Small lose rocks covered in snow tumble down the slope and cause a small rock slide. She turns her head and looks at the Gilded Knight wearing a dead man's armour as if to say: Be careful.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"Sivka is wise to hesitate." Milos narrows his eyes as he contemplates the treacherous slope. He looks for signs of any faint, packed-down path across where others have safely tread before,or patches of scree covered in lichen which may be more stable to walk upon.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

“I wish Colmán were here…” whispers the Dove Knight. Then, the memory of his dear mountain steed pushes him to focus on the ground beneath his feet. “What would Colmán do? Where would he step?” He scans the ground and tries to move as if he were led by his own sure footed horse.

A treacherous scree slope

Referee

Sir Milos points out hoofmarks on the rocks to the Dove Knight, the spoor of mountain goats who traversed the ground before and you slowly cross the slope following their steps. It is getting dark when you find a frozen lake and a cave in the cliffs surrounding it within which sits an old fireplace that hasn't been used in years, ashes upon older ashes and two columns flanking a stone slab in the cave wall. There are elfin runes and white ravens etched into the stone.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"Another night in these frozen hills." Perilake mutters. "Come Zoltan, whilst the others bring this fireplace back to life, we will see if we can find something to cook. You remember fishing in the frozen lakes of Svenrik? This time neither of us shall fall in." Zoltan smiles wryly at the jest, although he cannot help but think that in Svenrik there was a hall with furs and fires waiting for them...

As the others tend to the cave, the former squire and his master carefully traverse the cliff down to the frozen lake. The young knight leads, carving a hole in the ice with measured precision, in this practice always more the master than his mentor. There is little talk to be heard by any, but much still is said in the silence of loyalty, of gratitude, and of love.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

As they eat the once-Gilded Knight's catch before a ruby fire, Anastaz speaks abruptly. "In Jezsik, during harvest, the leaves change. All these great trees turn auburn and then lose their leaves. It's as if the wind becomes red, and the ground crinkles under your feet. The same happens in Barowia, more or less, but in my homeland, the world seems to glow. I don't know I've seen anything so beautiful since I left."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos stares into the fire with a wistful smile as he listens to the Salt Knight's story. For a moment it appears as if the red tones of his hair were returning. Perhaps it is a trick of the firelight or perhaps something deeper, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake feeds Sivka some of the last of the dried grains in their provisions, and carefully brushes the strange steed's hair. He leans in close, and whispers to the horse. "Tell me of Tizra, and the King. Tell me of the Herald, and of my son."

Referee

You find the mare nibbling moss from stones and her ears are twitching when you whisper into them. She whinnies and it sounds like bitter laughter. “My master has sent many spies into the Halls of the Elf and none returned. I am very sorry but I know nothing about your son” She snorts a sigh. “All that the King knows he learned from prisoners who may have been spies themselves” Then she leans in and nickers softly, her hot breath on your face. “He believes that Coredis has woven a wall of spells around his palace and that his right hand Seneschal Ashling is a powerful wizard. Tizra may have fallen out of favour but who knows?” She whickers doubtfully. "My master has sent me because he places his trust in you ... and in me. But I am not the warhorse anymore he once rode into battle."

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"You still serve well." He murmurs. "Would there be some place where my brethren may find steeds? Wild and untamed, or perhaps sold in good faith."

Referee

“The wild Rusalki have horses and might be willing to sell them … but they are wicked - none more so than Stribog - and they will drive a hard bargain!”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Leaving the Salt Knight to tend to the fire, the Dove Knight picks up a burning branch and walks toward the stone slab. He moves the flame near the runes and examines them carefully.

Referee

The runes have been carved into the stone and filled with silver and the ravens seem to stir in the flickering flame. There is a draft from the seams where the slab touches the columns and you are convinced it can be moved.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris puts the burning branch down and carefully pushes the slab, paying attention to its weight.

Referee

There is a piercing screech when you push on one side of the slab and it starts to move slowly on a central pivot.

A Knight's Rest

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

As the slab moves to the side, it reveals a knight’s tomb. An elfin skeletal figure lies down, donned in crimson armour. The carving on the slab makes sense now to Heldris, as he observes the knight’s right hand holding a majestic raven over their heart, while their left hand holds a strange weapon to their side. The bird has pearl eyes and its feathers are dark as a winter night. It seems untouched by decay, as if in a profound dream while waiting for its next master. The Dove Knight mumbles a prayer to the Spirit of the Lake, even if their ear must be far away, and moves the slab back to cover the knight’s rest. The stone seems ten times heavier now, as if something were calling for air from within the tomb. Heldris strengthens his grip and gives one last push, covering the sleeping knight once more.

Referee

They sit quiet around the campfire for a while, everyone in his own thoughts and one after the other they wrap themselves into their bedrolls until only The Fox Knight remains to stand guard over his brothers.

A dream

Sir Perilake, your dream is a jumble of broken images: Floating candles on a lake, Lady Inga in your embrace. Avert with a crown, advised by Zoltan, his Steward. The Black Stone Hunter climbing the facade of a tower. The head of Tizra lies bleeding on the stone floor. Then you kneel before the elder tree you planted an age ago, its branches barren, and frost covering the boulder its roots embrace. The broken winter sun is reflected in a thousand pieces off a throne of ice that sits under the tree. You hear a voice brittle with age but with a fiery determination whispering in your ear while the image fades: “My warhorse will guide you, my servant will guard you. Be my eyes among my enemies, serve me and your son will be free.”  

The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom IV

 Morning of the fourth day, an abandoned observatory

In the morning Zoltan moves from brother to brother lightly brushing shoulders, filling your cups with herbal tea and serving hard slices of bread, toasted and softened by honey. He has laid out the last of the supplies. “A couple of days left” he murmurs. He has smeared ash under his eyes to shield them from the reflection of the sun but it is still before dawn when you leave and in the course of forenoon the sun never shows himself behind snow filled clouds.

You follow Zoltan North past barren trees and the frozen pools. It seems to you as if the pattern of pools had meaning, as if they were letters written on the fields by the snow and pounced by winter but their meaning eludes you. Soon you hear singing and you pass a brook with icy shards drifting within it and it sings a hymn to winter. You check on the pit you dug and inside lies a dead wolf. Later you hear a high pitched whining and Heldris points you towards a copse of wood where he and Perilake laid another trap and you see a horned wolf pierced on a spear and struggling to free herself. There is a figure standing on a nearby hill with a tunic the colour of frosted dawn. They are watching you and the wolf.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"We should end its suffering..." Perilake says grimly, unshouldering the bow he still carries from Anastasz and an arrow, notching it loosely. But as he steps toward the copse and the whining, he glimpses the figure. "Who goes there?" He yells as he turns and readies to draw and fire if this stranger turns to be foe.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos lays a hand on Perilake's bow arm."Hold, brother. This is the first person we meet in this realm and their open approach suggests an invitation. Let me attempt to parley." And when he notices a familiar frown return to Heldris' face he adds: "I will be cautious."

Adler, a Hunter and Merchant of Dreams

Referee

The figure is tall and lean but you can't make out their features and first you assume a wind tugs at their clothes but there is no wind and it is the tunic's colour that shifts.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The wolf's whinings brings a feeling of discomfort to Heldris, like an echo of something from within. He shivers when Perilake speaks of ending the beast, but he simply nods in agreement, feeling observed all of a sudden. As they spot the figure on the hill, he catches Milos' gaze. Thinking that the Fox Knight might have understood his feelings about the beast, he frowns. Then at his words, he breathes easier, and nods "Be careful."

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz, more hunched than usual, wrapping his cloak against the piercing cold, allows his hand to creep almost imperceptibly to the handle of his mace.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos begins the ascent of the hill in the open but does dip out of sight brielfy as he passes through a copse of pine trees. He draws no weapon and looks steadily ahead at the mysterious figure. As he approaches, he raises his left hand in an open gesture, the ivory ring clearly visible on his index finger. "Well met, stranger."

Referee

You climb the hill observed by the tall figure. As you get closer you can see that their skin is very pale and shines like moonlight, their black hair is long and straight and the bones of their face unnaturally fine. You can't discern if they are male or female and they look at you without expression: “We rarely see one of your kind in the kingdom. Sometimes we hunt them .... " They speak hesitantly but with a silvery voice. "Are you lost?”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"Hunting is an honorable pursuit" and he glances down toward his comrades dispatching the wolf. "But as guests in your realm, we hope to not become the hunted ourselves." He makes a short bow toward the stranger."We are unfamiliar with this land but not lost. We follow something that has not been settled properly."

Referee

They nod as if in agreement. Behind them is a sled with pelts and sacks and a spear. Under the coat their tunic is made from the finest linen and embroidered with leaves and berries. “Most of the plump folk look like prey.” With a glance at your ring they curl their lip.”Are you travelling in service of the King?”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"We have exchanged courtesies with the King but are not in his service. Perhaps we could do the same with you? We have two wolf pelts down below." He smiles and raises his eyebrows playfully.

Referee

Their slanted blue eyes sparkle under fine, dark brows. “A trade … but not of furs.” They come very close in disregard of the space a Knight usually commands around him or her. “What do you desire?” Their breath is sweet and musky like fenugreek and they are too close to see their expression.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos feels his breath catch a bit and a flush of excitement spreads across his chest. Perhaps it is the audacity of their approach, or their shining black hair, or simply the thrill of a bargain offered. He gently tilts his head back with a smile. "We are strangers in a strange land. We seek warm hospitality for the night and a generous feast. If the pelts are not to your liking, what else might I offer you? "

Referee

With a poised lean they breathe in deeply. “There is much you can give me but … let me meet the other travellers first. We parley!” Soon you all sit around a fire under the canopy of trees, the stranger on their sled made from beautifully carved cherrywood, and you on tree stumps. You cannot remember them building the fire or placing skewers of hares over it, their movements are flowing and never rushed and yet not easy to follow. They introduce themselves as Adler, a hunter and merchant of sorts. “I can take you to Stribog and the Rusalki of the west, a mere day of travel ... or two for the likes of you ... and you will never forget that Feast.” There is a dangerous glint in their eyes and then they make a dismissive gesture with slender hands “ … or I can sell you food for a couple of days.” They look from one to the next until their gaze remains on the Salt Knight and they raise their eyebrows and now they smile for the first time, revealing pointed teeth. “I trade you what you desire … if you allow me to visit your dreams.”

Wintery Hills

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Sir Milos cannot help but take delight in both the boldness and the menace of the proposal. "To welcome you into our dreams is a... precious intimacy. " Letting himself linger suggestively on the last words. "We would need to confer amongst ourselves. And to clarify, while travelling together and upon arrival among the Ruslaki, we would be your guests, bound by the ancient rules of hospitality. " He raises an eyebrow and cocks his head so his suddenly lengthened white hair drapes to one side.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

The Salt Knight glances at Perilake. "I am prepared to make any sacrifice that will bring us closer to our goal. We must recover our strength before facing the Herald."

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The dead wolf's last breath still lingering over Heldris' mind, he peers at the stranger, suspicious. "We don't have much choice," he says, "let's accept their terms but let us be watchful, both over our dreams and over any food we'll be served."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Sir Milos places his hand over the Salt Knight's mouth. "Have care, my friend. Do not speak of making 'any sacrifice' within earshot of a Fae." Slowly, he removes his hand.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake nods at Anastaz's words, then at Milos's. He turns to Adler. "This Rusalki, are they allies of Tizra?"

Referee

Adler had moved away from you to allow you to speak freely among brothers and pretends to observe the sky, almost comically leaning their slender body back. In an instant they stand next to you - much too close for your liking. “Tizra, the Herald? Of course not!” they exclaim. “All Rusalki have pledged loyalty to the king, but ..." They lean in even closer as if to reveal a great secret. "Stribog yearns for spring to finally come and the king is old. I wouldn't be surprised if he were the first to declare Coredis, Tizra's master, the new king.”

"Hear my proposal", Adler produces a rose briar from his coat and winds a strain of their hair around it. A single drop of blood runs down the stem. “The hills are my witness: All those present will be honoured guests in Striborg's Brugh. A Feast will be held for them, a feast so fine and wild that they will never forget it.” With a quick step they are at Anastaz' side holding out the briar invitingly. “A gift for a gift: I, Adler, will be allowed to visit the dreams of Elfbane, take and leave as I please."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos' face betrays surprise at Adler's focus on the Salt Knight. He steps forward before Anastaz can agree. "If the dream visit is for only one night and I may enter as well to protect my friend's interests."

Referee

“Just once?” Adler exclaims in exasperation. “I promised an exquisite feast that few mortals have ever witnessed for the permission to visit your dreams, to come and go, take and leave as I please. For just a taste of your dreams I'll sell you a week worth of supplies and you can celebrate with bread and water.” They look at Ser Perilake with a smile full of pointed teeth. “I have what you crave most, a map of the kingdom including the location of the Elf's palace, The Halls of Desire, and I will gladly add it to our deal ... but your young white-haired friend stays in his place and out of my dealings with Elfbane.”

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz crosses his legs and leans back against his stump. "While you are a guest in my dreams, no harm will be done to me?" he asks Adler.

Referee

Adler stares at you with wide eyes in an expression of shock and withdraws the briar. “Harm?! You mistake an artist for a butcher! Of course I will explore the scar tissue of a life lived to its fullest and as all great pieces of art the experience can be intense or even troublesome …“ They pause for a moment, adding quickly: "... for the weak minded!" Adler holds out their empty hand reassuringly “But for a champion like you these will be moments to relive and cherish!” They look back at Ser Perilake in search of support. "Of course, if you would rather wander around the kingdom aimlessly instead of being invited to a most splendid Feast..."

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"Sir Milos alone? Cruel indeed. The fox does like to involve himself." Perilake smiles fondly but wryly at Milos, a glint in his eyes. "It is Anastasz who must agree, not I."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox Knight leans in close to Anastaz and whispers in his ear. "Perilake may think me meddlesome but you must understand that you would be bound to this creature for all your days. He would be free to commerce in your dearest secrets. Choose your path here carefully!"

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake looks at Anastasz. "This map would be useful. But we have other means. And the Winter King has some fondness for us, or -" he glances at Milos, and his white mane. "- some of us, at least." He looks around at his brothers. "Now we are here, in this kingdom, together - I have no doubts. I know what you would do for me, for... for Avert. I know deeper still that without any of that, you are good men. A child of the realm was taken, and you would honour our oaths even if it were that you had never sworn them. No matter the challenge, we will overcome it, with or without the aid of these... Rusilka." He meets Alders eyes, and studies the capricious features of the fae.

"You offer a tempting bargain, Adler. A fine deal... but I will not speak for it. No matter the depths of my sorrow, I have spent most of my life hoping of better dreams for my brother, for salt to know the sweetness that I have enjoyed." His eyes turn briefly to Milos, almost imperceptibly. "No matter the pain it has brought me."

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz considers his comrade's words. He gestures for Adler to hand him the briar, and plucks a hair from the back of his head. The root is just beginning to gray. He takes the briar and winds the hair around, and a thorn sinks into his thumb. His blood slowly drips down the stem and plops onto the barren soil as he hands the briar back. As if to no one in particular, he says, "Were it my son, you'd do the same for me."

Referee

“Bound by breath and hair, sealed by blood” Adler proclaims with gravity while observing the briar and then they turn to the sled, retrieve a rolled up piece of tanned leather and hand it to the Salt Knight. “Most excellent, I will make haste and talk to Striborg to have the feast prepared.” They jump without effort onto the sled. “Just follow the mountain path to the valley of clouds and move west over the scree slope. From there you will see the smoke from Striborg's Brugh.” The next moment the sled takes them down the hill and soon they disappear into the slowly falling snow.

Black Trees and frozen Ponds

You are crossing the desolate bog past frozen pools and black trees until you reach the mountain pass and begin the ascend. As light starts to fade snowfall turns heavy and deliberate and when you reach the valley again you can't see further than your breath. It is cold and very still. Out of the whiteness of the clouds a white mare approaches. She trots slowly towards Ser Perilake, old and frail, and she bows her head and paws the ground three times. You see a saddle on her back made for a king and woven from bone and shadow. ”I am your servant Ser Perilake” she neighs with a high brittle voice, “The Winter King sends me. Will you accept his present?”

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

There is a moment where Perilake considers a talking horse with some astonishment, then with some revulsion, then with more pity. "What price?"

Referee

She shakes her mane and snorts. There is a sparkle of humour in her wise eyes but she doesn't speak and just looks at you patiently. It is getting dark and you still have to climb the mountain saddle to reach the abandoned hut that had been your shelter before.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"I accept the present, if it be freely given." He takes the reins, but does not climb into the saddle. "What is your name, old one?"

Referee

The mare gives a short gentle snort that sounds like “Sivka” but speaks no more as if everything important had already been said. The reins are of a soft white leather with fine silver threads woven into them and you lead her north or maybe she is leading you. It is after dark when you arrive at the hut under the tall fir trees. Zoltan removes the precious saddle and carries it inside. You gather wood from the fallen branches and soon a fire is burning in the ancient hearth and some time later you feel your toes and fingers again.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris is holding his hands out before the fire. “That Adler is an unsettling fellow,” he almost whispers to the flames. He turns to Anastaz, on whose face the fire is casting unquiet shadows. “Your dreams are yours only, even if they come from some strange place as this.” he smiles with his old calm, “whatever thing they’ll show you, I’m sure you’ll shake it off with dawn. Your mind has always been the strongest.” He reaches for the pot and starts pouring the stew in bowls and passing them around.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz nods curtly. "Sticks and stones..." but he seems far off. For a moment, when the Dove Knight glances towards his friend, he is gone, even as his silhouette on the wall makes the motions of eating. But of course, that's impossible, and when Heldris blinks, Anastaz is back before the fire.

Adler's map (it's easier to read when you squint)

A dream

The night air is warm and heavy with the scent of jasmine. Shrouded in a delicate twilight, the vault of the sky seems close enough to touch as Milos lays upon a grassy knoll looking up at stars. He absently runs his hand through the luxurious grass that surrounds him. Another figure approaches, climbing the hill in steady silent steps. He kneels next to Milos. His strange blue eyes betray a tender melancholy reminiscent of the sea after a hard rain. “My Lord?” “No, no longer. I cannot bear to bind you any longer, young one. Although you may choose to leave me, I must release you from my service now. I yearn for the joy of watching you run free, my Fox.” He reaches out and runs his fingertips along Milos’ cheek. And something long tightened, unwinds within the young knight’s belly, and a sense of freedom and possibility blossoms there in its place. Alongside the freedom, unforeseen, a forgotten passion ignites throughout The Fox’s body. He grabs the older man’s hand and pulls him into a passionate embrace. Their bodies crush the delicate grass in the ardor of their newfound passion for one another. And somewhere in the distance, another voice laughs.

Milos wakes slowly from the dream and as his eyes open they fall upon the sleeping figure of the Salt Knight. At the sight of his noble comrade, his hands rise involuntarily to cover his face in shame.

The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom III

Morning of the 3^rd day, an abandoned Observatory

Referee

You are gently woken up by Zoltan and the smell of roasted bread and honey and a fire is burning between the chairs. Zoltan looks at the Gilded Knight almost apologetically: ”I was just outside to gather wood and … we won't be able to leave this place just yet my lord - lest we want to risk getting lost.” He explains that he was almost blinded by the sun glaring down upon the snow covered plains and had to return quickly. With a glance at Anastaz he adds, “Maybe the extra hours will help us gather our strength ....”

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

The Salt Knight, whom everyone assumed to be asleep, chimes in. "I am strong enough to travel. But let us wait till conditions are more favorable."

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"The Thrice Ninth Kingdom proves inhospitable thus far, but it seems ever changing." Perilake muses as he looks over the domed interior. "We will wait. Perhaps soon we will have the opportunity to move forwards." He traces one hand over the black mountains outlined to the West, and begins to follow the curved walls. "For now, let us take the opportunity to look around us."

Referee

The illustrations seem to depict the surrounding regions of the tower and there are surprising details to the map like hawks flying over what looks like a chapel in the mountains to the north west. As you follow the frescoes all around the tower you see foxes drinking from a fountain in the forests to the north east.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

As Perilake studies the charts, Milos prepares the meat, and Anastaz rests, Heldris is tending the fire. Pieces of broken furniture lie scattered all around him, as large planks of wood burn high and send red embers up toward the ceiling, to dance under the dome with brass and silver stars. “It was a winter much like this one,” he begins, almost talking to the fire, “when I was spending the short days pacing the halls of Karpat Fortress. I remember hearing a gentle tune breaking the stillness of those empty hallways. It was a voice singing an old lay about the grafting of the hazel and the honeysuckle, how they grow so entwined that both will die if separated, just as the poet and her lover. I knew that lay by heart, and started singing to its tune. The voice suddenly stopped, and I felt stupid and rushed toward the chamber it seemed to come from. Lady Hedwig was sitting at her desk, scribbling some notes over a piece of parchment. I guess we both looked surprised, and complicit. I begged her to resume her singing, but she said to me that if I were to interrupt her again, she would throw me out of the castle and let me on the snow to freeze. So I sat there in silence and listened to her singing, as a warm smile finally drew upon her face and she burst into laughter, and so did I."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The cavernous space fills with the smell of venison stew as Heldris tells his tale. Milos mutters prayers of thanks over the meal and then begins to serve it to his comrades. As he hands a bowl to Zoltan he says "You have a unique gift for finding the way to places. As you eat this, perhaps you could meditate on which way the Court of the Winter King might lie?"

Referee

Zoltan takes the bowl and holds it for a while with both hands to warm them. “I don't know.” he says slowly " I usually need to be outside to ...”. He lowers the bowls into his lap and closes is eyes. “North … “ he whispers and then without much conviction. “ ... I think I can lead you.”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos squeezes his shoulder and says "Eat now. We will see if the others want to pursue this path." He makes his way over to the sleeping figure of the Salt Knight and places a warm bowl of stew on the ground next to him. The sight of the large wound on his side turns the Fox's eyes sad and soft. Guilt tugs at his heart. In a quiet voice he says "Rest my friend for you have fought valiantly."

Referee

In the course of the morning you see the dazzling light through the upper windows gradually dim but you can't bring it over you to wake Anastaz up just yet. You let the last of the wood burn down and watch the clouds cover the sky again. At noon heavy snowflakes start to fall as you leave your shelter. Between the trees where you fought you see wild colours: Where the blood of the wolves was spilled foxglove have grown, violet and blue and yellow and their grotesque mouths agape. Where the carcass of the stag had rested there is a small hill now with a young rowan tree growing.

Sir Milos, between its roots you find an ivory ring with symbols of cloud and sun and lightning etched in silver on the outside and an inscription on the inside: Thus all things give that receive - even death.

Thus all things give that receive - even death.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz insists on accompanying the other knights outside. From a distance, he watches Milos retrieve the ring as he hangs on to the branch of a large oak tree for support. As Milos approaches with the ring, he lets go to inspect, and stumbles, almost crashing into the Fox Knight. Unusually red-faced, he allows Milos to guide him back to the tower. After resting for a minute, and sharing a pot of nettle tea, the Salt Knight examines the ring. "I was never one for riddles."

Referee

Anastaz, after you regained your strength you look up at the globes to discern what kind of wisdom they hold. The sculpture seems to indicate that the ancients believed the stars to revolve around the Realms which themselves seem to be spherical or on the inside of a sphere with the light of the heavens shining through. Some details hint at a wind that blows in the heavens and you imagine a sky-ship being able to take you on a journey to the stars above. But you also see small dents and notches as if somebody had taken a hammer to the globes unable to bring about real damage. You slowly walk around in the tower looking at the map carved into the walls and you realize it had to be more recent than the mechanism and that the stars depicted on the walls were different from those above. You also find details that Perilake must have overlooked: some of the tress and hills and mountains have eyes and mouths that blend into their natural features and there are tall and gaunt figures hiding in the forests, with scythes and spears, and you hear the trees whisper and you see the hills shift and the wild elves are long- haired and bloodthirsty and when you find one they step behind a rock and when you blink they are gone and hide somewhere else.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

The Salt Knight, who had been brushing his hand along the wall, suddenly jerks back, as if burned. He returns to the makeshift camp and the safety of Milos's company.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As he approaches, Milos is crushing some herbs on one of the flagstones."I found a small patch of yarrow among all the unlikely flowers that sprang up in the stag's glade. The dressing on your wound needs to be changed and this poultice will help staunch the bleeding. Sit down here for a moment. It's almost ready." Then he looks again at Anastaz and notices that something is amiss. "What's happened? What have you seen?"

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz follows the Fox Knight's instructions. He frowns and strokes his chin for a moment before speaking. "I thought I saw something in the drawings on the wall. Whether my addled brain or a vision sent to vex me, I know not."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos glances up at the murals and wonders at them. "This realm follows it own laws, and speaks in its own grammar. We may need to become a bit addled to finally understand it." He gestures for Anastaz to remove his shirt and when he complies, the Fox begins to gently remove the dressing from his comrade's wound. He soberly regards the many scars that cover the Salt Knight's torso but makes no comment."There is no sign of fester which is no small blessing." His fingers deftly apply the poultice to the length of the wound, while one eye watches for any wince of pain. Without looking up from his task, he says "I saw what you did. During our clash with the wolves. You taunted all of them into attacking you instead of me." He pauses and looks up into Anastaz's eyes. "You could have died. And it would have been my fault for spurring you into that battle."

Referee

Snow is falling steadily on Heldris and Perilake who crouch over the tuft of fur hanging from brambles - the second of similar finds that indicate the horned wolves might have fled north towards the forests. The Gilded Knight, with ice crystals in his beard and the Harvest Bow slung over his shoulder, looks up when somewhere in the scrub a blackbird sings. To Heldris it sounds like a song of longing and desire but Perilake hears its true meaning.

The Elf taught me well

To dance and to sing

A message I bring

With glamour and spell

The blackbird flutters up onto a branch. It cocks his head and chirps a question and then it takes flight and disappears west into the snow filled sky.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz calmly meets Milos's gaze. "And I would have died had you not fought so skilfully. Thus is the life of a Knight. I'm not afraid to die, my friend, and certainly not in battle."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"That you do not fear death, there is no room for doubt. It's just..." And the Fox Knight's pale cheeks blush slightly "I would miss you if you were gone." Then he turns back to the task of applying the new dressing before Anastaz can say anything more. 

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The wolves must be hungry, since in result of their efforts their prey had been taken away from them. On the trail that they have found, Heldris and Perilake carefully place large cuts of venison. In proximity of those, they lay their traps. They don’t have much, but they make do. They fashion several spikes from some sturdy wood from a fir-like tree. A few of those they use for pit traps, large enough holes around the cut of meat, covered with bracken and snow. Others, they secure on a tree with a taut piece of rope connected to the snare, so that they’ll be flung forward when the meat is taken. During their work out in the cold, they don’t talk much, their minds clouded by the dire situation. From time to time they hear a lonesome blackbird singing. Perilake seems to react strangely to its call. “What bothers you my friend in this loner call?” asks Heldris, as he secures a spike on the ground.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"We have seen many strange things together Heldris. Here is the strangest of all, a land where even the birdsong holds a hidden message for those intended." Perilake smiles sadly at Heldris, one of his oldest friends. "It is a sad song, and one aimed at my heart. And it strikes true, but it tells me he lives - and so then must I." Perilake tests the sharpness of a stake, and nods. "Let us return and trust to these traps for now. If the beasts scent us, then our plans will be for nought." Zoltan nods from the tree-line, where he keeps watch, and the three return to their companions for another night in the thrice ninth kingdom.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

During his watch that night, Milos contemplates the ring he found in the stag's glade. He turns it in his fingers and lets his mind wander in meditation on the silver symbols and the cryptic inscription.

A wintery Forest

A Dream

Anastaz is wandering through a forest in midwinter, cold and alone, when he finds himself before a colossal tree. At its base is a hot spring, but instead of water it's a red sap. Still, the Salt Knight disrobes and steps into the steaming pool. It's warm, and, although sticky, not unpleasant. He rests at the pool for a while before he starts to sink. Still, he is unafraid. As he sinks below the surface, he finds he can still breathe as he descends for what feels like hours. His feet finally hit the base of the pool, and he sees the soil has been replaced by a stone wall. A buzzing of insects emanates from behind the wall, and Anastaz sees there is a brick loose. He pries back the brick...

Anastaz awakes, and it is morning.

The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom II

Morning of the second day, an abandoned hut in the mountains

Referee

You all wake up before dawn by a loud crack from above, a branch must have snapped and hit the roof. In the night some of the shingles have been blown off. There is a thrumming sound as gusts slam into the logs and a rushing of wind through the canopy. The whole hut groans. When you step outside for a moment you have to brace yourself against the winds that steal your breath and make your face numb from the cold. It is still dark.

Sir Milos, Zoltan wakes up in your embrace and looks over his shoulder. His blue eyes muster you expressionless and then he gently removes your arm, gets up and pokes the fire.  

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz rises from his slumber, blows into his hands, and rubs them together. "They do not want us even to rest in their demesne."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos sits up on his elbows and looks at the ceiling. “Although it may appear that way, not every power in this land means us harm, my friend. Sometimes nature is simply wild and untameable. I can go out and check the roof to make sure it is still secure above our heads for the night.“

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The Dove Knight wakes up as the strong gale is howling all around the ruined hut, his serenity leaves with the wailing wind. As he sees the Fox Knight checking the roof tiles shattered on the ground, he hands him a piece of bread for breakfast. “Forget the ceiling,” he says, “let’s get going.”

Referee

While you have your breakfast Zoltan takes out his knife and carves a staff from a fallen branch. His usually precise movements are sluggish as he hold the knife awkwardly in his frostbitten fingers and Perilake is reminded of the time when he carved his first bow. You leave the hut before dawn and make your way down the mountain saddle back south while the winds howl around you. Zoltan is leading you again, his body leaning into the wind using his staff for balance. When you reach the valley again the clouds have dispersed but you have to figh against powdery snow lashing at you. You follow the mountain pass winding its way down and at a turn you see a desolate landscape below you, black trees and frozen ponds. Zoltan tries to move as closely to the rock side as possible but more then once a gust threatens to blow him off the path. At noon you reach the foot of the pass and take a short rest. Dark clouds gather in the east. A storm is brewing. Over the distant thunder you hear a blackbird hidden in a nearby shrub.

Ser Perilake, you understand the language of the bird. It sings: “Papa, Papa, The Elf taught me well.”

A hidden Blackbird

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake lurches towards the bush, but the blackbird quickly flies away. Within the bushes, he finds a brooch, painted in Kranach's colours. A gift to Lady Inga from Lady Zdenka, often pinned to the boy's chest. When Perilake turns back to the others, on his face there is hope. "We grow closer." He whispers. Zoltan recognises his aunt's present, and clasps his hand around his former mentors. "As does the storm." He nods to the swaying limbs of the black trees. Perilake nods, and scans around the party. "We will find shelter once more, and weather this ill breeze. And in the morning, we will be closer still.

On the edge of frozen waters, between the black trees, the knights find a strange building unlike any they have ever seen. They first glimpsed it as they came down the mountain pass. A tall structure made with even, neat rows of bricks, and an opaque cupola rising above, made of some shining, smooth metal. Between thin pillars, finely carved wooden doors swing softly in the growing breeze, the motion smooth and quiet. The knights approach carefully and guarded, remembering the glittering trail that near led them astray. Quietly, Zoltan pushes forward the door and steps into the hall. As he does so the Fox steps swiftly past Perilake to watch over the Pigeon. All morning the young Milos has a look that one might call apprehensive whenever his glance falls on the scion of Kranach, though such looks vanish swiftly under the regard of other eyes. Within, they find the building empty. Not in ruin, or in disrepair, but abandoned by whatever strange inhabitants it once had. But whatever took place here, once, is stranger still. Chairs of metal and soft cushioning are arrayed in circular rows, gathered in audience around the empty heart of the great room. But above, twenty feet high, and twenty-seven in diameter, a most strange construction stands vertically before the vanished spectators. A grand mechanism of brass and silver and golden globes, affixed on circular rails in winding patterns. Faint light glimmers across their edges from the windows high above, a fortune in plain glass. Beyond these bizarre artefacts, the building is a work of art itself. Above, the dome is painted with luminous points of light, softly glowing pale suggestions of the stars themselves. And the walls of this circular building have their own artistry; faint suggestions of the landscape around, with the tall mountains to the west rising over the entrance doors in thin linework, and other features unfamiliar visible through the gloom.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight 

Milos looks up in awe, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. “Is this a temple, a church?” He points to the grand sculpture of metal above their heads. “Is this an image of their god then?” Their footsteps ring with strange echoes and the Fox Knight tilts his head with a smile of delight. A pennywhistle appears in his hands, as if from nowhere, and he blows some high notes that seem to seem to provoke an eerie resonance from the metal sculpture. He laughs out loud.

Then a sharp thunderclap shakes the building and reminds them of the looming storm.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The Dove Knight paces the domed hall in amazement, forgetful of the cold that’s still biting his bones. Not even the great auditorium at Castle Barow could equal such an astonishing place. When they finally settle in, he kindles a fire around the metal chairs, with a bundle of sticks he had carried with him from the day before. “We will need more, I’m afraid." He says, to nobody in particular, as he watches the reflection of the tender fire dancing on the brass and silver globes of the strange artifact above. The wind sings an eerie tune outside, sliding over the smooth metal dome, and seems to accompany the silent music of the flames on the hanging spheres. 

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz nods. "I'll be back soon." As he opens the wooden doors, the wind outside becomes almost deafening, a screeching sound that sounds almost like children laughing... or crying. Then, the doors close, as the Salt Knight goes out into the storm.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos' brow furrows a bit and he rises from his musical reverie. “We should avoid venturing out alone in this realm. I will assist the Salt Knight.”

Referee

You step into the storm, raging winds and hail and snow. It seems as if the blizzard is filled with the fury of the realm itself or its ruler. Leaning forward you stumble towards the nearest trees, dead branches ripped from trunks. As you start gathering wood you hear a bawl over the howling of the storm and then a screaming wail. Dark shapes prowl between the trees. They circle something white and majestic and almost invisible against the fury of the elements ... if not for the deep red wounds in its side: A dying white stag mercilessly attacked by predators

From afar you hear the thundering howl of anger.  

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos grabs his comrade's shoulder and leans in close to his ear. “Anastaz! The White Stag is the sacred emblem of the Winter King. If we intervene to save it, we could find favor with a powerful ally against the Spring Court, against the Elf!” And he looks up into his friend's eyes with the question...

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz's eyes alight. "Let's go," he yells, drawing his sword and plunging into the storm.

Referee

You dash forward and land between the stag and its attackers: half a dozen horned wolves observing you with yellow eyes, exposing their dripping fangs. They back away from their prey and start circling you. The White Stag, lying in a pool of blood and covered in wounds, lifts his royal head weakly and wails. Through the blizzard you see the wolves circling around you as you stand back-to-back trying to face them. One after the other feigns, pretending to pounce and then retreats quickly.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz waits for what seems an eternity, then leaps forward just as the wolves descend. He brings out his mace and his javelin in a wide arc, then begins to spin as he disengages from Milos. He whirls around and around, trying to keep the wolves at bay, stabbing and striking any that get too close.

A Pack of Horned Wolves (just imagine the horns)

Referee

All around you teeth and snarls and growling. One of the wolves bites onto your dominant arm, you hit him with the spinning attack but he doesn't let go, another tears into your thigh and retreats with flesh in his muzzel, blood spattering, the third is trying to duck under the attack but is hurled into the darkness.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos jumps into the midst of the three approaching wolves and swings his jagged blade at their legs, drawing blood. He rolls and ducks as they attempt to fall upon him, until the largest leaps up and comes down squarely on his back. But as soon as the wolf touches Milos form, it evaporates into smoke and the animal hits the hard ground awkwardly. The true Fox Knight watches from a distance, then charges the confused beasts.

As he springs across the snow, he calls to his Fae Lord: “Give me strength to vanquish these foes and Winter will smile upon us both.”

Referee

You feel your legs buckle under you and your body spasms. The roaring of the blizzard fades away and with it the trees and the wolves. Snowflakes float slowly all around you. A bell tolls. You hear a voice, mocking but not unfriendly. “Ah, my servant summons me, how queer. I see you haven't lost your appetite for bargains, Fox Knight.” “I already own your body, what else will you give me? The one-armed friend or the one you love?" The voice turns into a seductive whisper: "Give one of them up, stay with me and you will be my Prince!”

Referee

Ser Perilake, The Dove Knight feeds the last branches to the meagre fire that fails to warm the enormous hall and you turn Avert's brooch over in your numb fingers. Zoltan is sleeping, curled up in his bedroll with a blanket wrapped around his head. Suddenly Heldris falls over, gripped in a spasm that envelops his whole body.

Sir Heldris, When you come to, you are lying on the floor in front of the fire, your body is twisting and contorting violently. An image flashes before your eyes, Milos kneeling in the snow surrounded by wolves. The vision disappears, the cramps start to fade and you are convinced that the Fox Knight is in mortal danger.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris comes to, clutching his iron arm. He stares at Perilake, bewildered. “I can't explain how, but I fear our friends may be in danger.” He rises up unsteadily, and holds himself to the Gilded Knight for a moment. “Let's haste, before it's too late.”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

In the eerie quiet, Milos cries out “You ask too much! Are you a Lord of the Fae or a petty crossroads demon?” and somewhere Heldris hears his voice and knows that his friend faces an inner threat as dire as the wolves that encircle him.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

With a mace trapped in one of the wolf's jaws, the Salt Knight feebly waves his javelin around himself, drawing drops of blood as the wolves descend on him in a great chorus of gnashing teeth. For the first time, Milos hears the Salt Knight scream, a high-pitched, blood-curdling sound, as the beasts rip and tear the knight's flesh. He kicks and punches at the beasts but can hardly move as the direwolves close in around him and prepare to feast.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As Milos is released from the Fae Lord's reverie, the scene around him coalesces abruptly and the Fox Knight's charge toward the horned wolves resumes midstride. As a blinding streak of white, he impales two wolves and continues to waylay the others as they focus their attacks on the Salt Knight. The scream of pain kindles a frenzy of anger in Milos' heart as he drops his buckler and draws his hidden blade to attack anew.

Referee

Ser Perilake, Zoltan is awake in an instant and wriggles out of his bedroll. From the door you stare into the blizzard but you can't see your comrades - only the vague shapes of nearby trees. The next moment the Pidgeon Knight stands behind you, Zuraw in hand. He mumbles something inaudible and follows you without hesitation into the storm.

Sir Milos, the wolves retreat again into the white chaos. The Salt Knight is hunched over gripping his mace as he leans his entire weight onto it to keep him from collapsing. He is bleeding from many wounds. Over the roaring winds you barely hear the whimpers of the two dying wolves lying on the ground and the grunts of pain from the White Stag. Hail and snow whip your face as you turn around with your blades at the ready, waiting for the Horned Wolves to pounce again. Then out of the blizzard a figure approaches rapidly.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Perilake and Zoltan watch the Dove Knight run blindly into the deafening blizzard, as a hound after an invisible trail. They follow, and eventually spot two figures in armour standing in the red snow. The dead bodies of huge white wolves lie on the ground, and four more seem to be retreating into the howling storm. Heldris rushes toward Milos and Anastaz, "Are you all right my friends?" He positions himself between them and the four wolves, as the feathered wings of his armour spread out to shelter his comrades and scare the beasts away. "I feared we were too late..."  

The White Stag

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"Heldris, thank the seers you have come. Anastaz has been hurt. We must protect him." The fear in his voice is evident but his eyes have a stony resolve. He stoops to grab his buckler from the snow and peers out toward the trees. "The beasts will return I have no doubt. This fight is not over."

Referee

When Perilake and Zoltan finally catch up with Heldris they see him standing over the wounded Salt Knight, his wings fluttering wildly in the wind while Milos is pacing back and forth trying to catch a glimpse of the wolves through the swirling snow.  

Anastaz, you are bleeding from numerous wounds and now that the tension of the battle is fading so is your strength. Hot pain is pulsating where the teeth have cut you and still a terrible chill seeps into your bones.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos returns from his survey of the nearby area. "They appear to be gone for now. We should bring Anastaz back to the domed temple and tend to his wounds." Then he looks over his shoulder at the white stag. "Give me one moment first. " Milos approaches the white stag slowly, with reverence, He squats down near its head, listens to its rasping breath, and looks deeply into the dying light in its eyes. A prayer leaves his lips silently, "Great King of the Winter forest, what can be done to honor your passing?

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz stumbles and nearly falls towards the other knights to support him. After a moment, and in obvious pain, he manages to stand upright. "I didn't gather any..." he grimaces, "wood."

Referee

Sir Milos, you kneel at the dying animal's side and the winds seem to die down and a strange calmness comes over you. You hear the voices of your brothers calling you as if from afar and the rattling breath of the stag fills you ears while his eyes draw you in. “Stay with me” they say as clearly as if it had been spoken aloud “and gift me your Rowan seeds when I'm gone. A King dies slowly and never stays dead for long.”  

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos turns and looks up at Anastaz. He grimaces at the sight of his many wounds. "I must stay here at vigil a while longer and finish what we started. Go back with the others and please do not die. I will see you soon.  

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz looks at Milos, almost seeming delirious. Through the wind, his raised voice can hardly be made out. "You fought well. We will live to fight another day."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Tears well up in his eyes as Milos watches the Salt Knight lumber away in such obvious pain. He fights the impulse to run after him but instead looks to Perilake and gestures with his chin that they should go. A tear falls from his pale cheek and freezes on its way down to the snowy ground. Then he sees the Dove Knight regarding him with arms crossed and a frown upon his face. "I know, it is foolhardy to remain here alone. Will you keep watch with me then, Sir Heldris?"

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris nods, the tireless wind bending his armour's wings around him like a feathered shroud. “I'll stand guard with you, sir Milos.”

Referee

Perilake lends his strong shoulder to the exhausted Salt Knight and guides him back to the tower. After a few steps they disappear into darkness and snow. Heldris stands guard while Milos kneels beside the stag. Time passes and although the storm seems to lose its might it is very cold and your fingers and toes become numb. From afar you hear the howling of wolves. Large snowflakes are falling on the bloodied ground, white on red, and the rattled breathing of the stag slows down until at last it breathes no more.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Only occasionally leaning on the Gilded Knight for support, Anastaz makes it back into the orrery. When Perilake removes his blood-soaked garments, the other knight sees a constellation of scars, including a 20-year old jousting wound that runs from the Salt Knight's armpit to just below his navel. His newest injury is a bloody mess where a piece of his side had been ripped out. Though unsightly and pouring blood, the wound is shallow enough it should not have any permanent effect. The Salt Knight, mostly lucid, helps his companion tend to his own injuries and stanch the flow. Within the hour, the Salt Knight is curled up in a corner of the planetarium and able to claim such much-needed rest.  

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox’s head rests gently on the stag’s breast, feeling the warmth beneath the white fur, even as the beat of the great heart slows to an eventual stop. Then an immense stillness descends upon the glade and upon the young knight’s spirit. It is the black emptiness underneath all the white, the deepest source from which all emerges and to which all returns. Milos opens his eyes and stands stiffly. Snow falls from his shoulders as he shakes himself. In the aftermath of the storm, the vault of the night sky is clear and filled with unfamiliar stars. He digs a hand into his pocket and draws out a handful of bright red rowan berries. As he scatters them on the snow around the stag, he speaks into the intimate silence “Rest at last great King. Until you rise again.” The Dove Knight waits patiently, his wings a welcome refuge for the weary Fox. They slowly walk from the glade together. As they make their way through the soft landscape of white, Milos stammers “Anastaz. He almost died. I was terrified.”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

As they walk, the Dove Knight’s wings still cover him like a cloak against the cold. Slowly, one wing spreads and closes over the Fox Knight’s shoulders. “I felt it as well, somehow.” He answers. “I cannot explain, but it was as if I was there with you, but helpless.” In the bitter cold, he finds a comforting smile. “You helped me that night in Bohat, and something lingered, some kind of bond…” he sighs, “I'm glad for it. I only hoped I could have understood it sooner, and acted quickly.” As the two knights reach the towering domed building, the sky clears and strange constellations appear over a dark backdrop.

Strange Constellations

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

The Gilded Knight is long familiar with the scars of the salt knight. Anastasz may still be the greatest sword in the realm, as the stories tell, but all victories on the battlefield are paid for in flesh and blood. Thankfully, the balance of where the greater debt falls still remains in their favour. Leaving his friend to rest, Perilake takes his own place within the strange building, staring up at the glowing stars. What makes them glow, he wonders, as his mind drifts off into a darkness of its own.

A Dream

"Sir Perilake." He hears Inga's voice over the noise of the waterfall. In the woods, near Kranach. When they were here, it was spring, their first together, before the journey to her family seat in Svenrik. But now it is some strange season; the trees and grasses are in bloom, the air rich with the scent of nature alive and fresh. But covered with the kiss of frost, and cold to his touch but seemingly pleasant. "My golden one, where are you?" Inga's voice calls again, and he rises from the waters where he is bathing. In the distance, he hears the soft whinny of the horses, the noise of his squire leading the steeds away. She is waiting for him in the grove, and Zoltan will be some time. He threads his way through the branches, his skin warm even as it treads across white-tipped blades. There, she waits for him. His light, his lady of Svenrik, her smooth skin goosefleshed and her bright eyes clearer and more blue than the sky... The Dream is not as it was, but it is a reminder of warmth and home, and hope.