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. 

The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom I

The first night, somewhere in the mountains

Snowflakes dance around the campfire and beyond there is only darkness. An icy wind pierces through to your bones and wicked gusts fan the flames that burn quickly through the last logs. A few almost geometric marigold flowers break through the snow blanket around the rocks, blooming out of season and with an unplausibly bright red.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As Milos looks out across the frozen expanse, his heart is heavy in his chest. This realm does not welcome them and he knows the way before them will be a punishing one. The tiny fire sputters feebly in the cold wind and he lets out a sigh as he coaxes it with a stick. We will need shelter in the coming days if we are to survive this gauntlet. But who here would help us? Then unbidden, a memory breaks like a gentle wave over his mind. He is walking in a thick orchard of plum trees in full blossom, tiny white blooms dance on the warm breeze of a perpetual summer’s twilight. An arm is draped over his shoulder, and a soft voice murmurs in his ear, speaking of hidden things, secrets things, just for him. Milos struggles to make the words out, but then the vision slips away, as suddenly as it appeared. He swears under his breath and rises up from the hard unyielding scrabble of the cave. Perilake mutters in a fitful sleep and Milos’ heart breaks a little more to see the Gilded Knight so diminished. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, he rouses him to the next watch.

A Rock Overhang

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris bundles up in his bedroll, trying to keep the cold away. He falls asleep in a matter of minutes, as he watches sir Milos tend the fire—but it’s a night of restless dreams: Biljana’s warped face under the silver moon in Bohat; the blind bard at the brook dancing hand in hand with the questing knight, their heads dangling loose, blood stains on their necks and clothes; a disembodied slithery voice, creeping out of the darkness of Elfland, echoing into his ears, craving for his soul… He is suddenly awakened by Perilake’s hand on his shoulder. The Gilded Knight mumbles a few words about the fire, which is struggling to survive the restless wind, and is eating piece after piece of a scrawny log. The Dove Knight casts another twisted log into the fire and starts his watch. All around, the darkness seems to crawl around the dancing shadows, seeping into every nook and cranny between the fickle light of the fire. He shivers and moves closer to the flame. But no matter how close he gets, he cannot shake the cold out of his bones, or out of his mind. The red marigolds lie in the darkness like open wounds. Heldris casts away these heavy thoughts, and spends the time revising their provisions or trying to recall the tales and songs of this mysterious land, in the hope of finding some clue or helpful notion. When it’s time, he wakes Anastaz up and mumbles a few words about the struggling fire, before crawling back into this bedroll.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

It is not difficult to rouse the Salt Knight. In fact, he hardly slept at all. He feeds the fire log after log, and stares into the flames meditatively. As the first tendrils of dawn probe into their camp, Anastaz creeps to the edge of the overhang and looks out on the other world.

Referee

You rise stiffly from the dying embers of the campfire and approach the edge of the plateau. Mountains all around you. Clouds hang low like dark blue linen over the rock massif. The winds have settled down but the air burns cold in your lungs and you can see your breath. Before you lies a sharp mountain ridge that disappears into the twilight of dawn. A steep path wounds east around the rock and a treacherous scree slope covered in fresh snow leads down to the west. Behind you is a chimney between two rock walls covered in ice to the summit. From there you will have a better view of the surrounding area but the walls glisten dangerously.

A sky like blue linen

Referee

Sir Milos, Zoltan shakes you awake. His lips are blue and his teeth are shattering. He mumbles something that you can't understand and then he crouches next to the cold fireplace poking the ash with a stick.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As morning breaks, Milos stands by the last embers of the fire as the companions gather.

“My friends, we move in a different world now. If we fling ourselves against its sharp edges, we will not survive. We need to speak to it in its own language.”

He kicks at the embers and his brow furrows.

"Warmth is not made here. It is given—offered and noticed. Fire alone may fail or burn strangely. Instead, warmth must be exchanged from the heart."

He raises his face to the ominous clouds and seems to address them.

“We seek not to defy you. Only to pass through you. Take from us what is small, and leave us what is needed.”

Then he puts one arm around Zoltan’s shivering shoulders and with the other hand pulls a tattered red ribbon from his pocket.

“I offer a memory of warmth. A young girl reunited with her mother, laughing in the sunshine. The simple joy of homecoming in an uncertain world.”

And the ribbon blows from his open hand to be lost in the wide expanse of white below them. Milos hugs the Pigeon Knight close to him as he looks out at his other comrades with glistening eyes.

Referee

It seems as if the sky is a single unblinking dark blue eye that looks down at you and yet its vastness is overwhelming and if it had listened it seemed unmoved - but Zoltan stirs in appreciation of your embrace as your share your warmth with him. Or has the ribbon warmed his heart?

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris watches the red ribbon being lifted into the air. The wind carries it away toward a pale rising sun, in the east. He holds tight a piece of fabric hidden between the folds of his clothes, of the colours of Karpat, and his heart feels warmer. “Your words warm more than this feeble fire will ever do, Sir Milos,” says the Dove Knight. “Let’s follow the path, and see whither it leads us.”

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

A shiver passes through Anastaz. "Then let's get going. Shelter is our direst concern."

Referee

Zoltan turns his head and forces himself to smile, his face still stiff from the cold : ”Thank you, Fox Knight” he croaks and starts collecting his things. As before he takes the lead following the path East. His slow and steady step reveals the experienced wanderer. The pale disc of the sun rises behind the thick panel of clouds turning the sky pink in the east before fading into grey. Still even the ghost of the sun's warmth on your face feels like an unexpected blessing.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Although none can say exactly when it occurred, the Fox's coat has changed its season. As Milos makes his way across the snowy meadow, his auburn hair now appears bright white, his brown eyes nearly coal black, and his ruddy complexion has become pale and ethereal. The footsteps he leaves in the snow look to be a natural part of the wintry landscape, akin to those of a native creature.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Few in the realm of Barowia would recognise the famed Sir Perilake as he follows this strange path in this strange land. Wearing the tattered and dull armour of the mad Seeker, his tall and proud stride now a grim and determined march, there is none of the glitter and glamour of the shining knight known across the land. The warm smile and easy manner is but a story for a better time. But the strange light of the Thrice Ninth Kingdom glimmers upon some aspects familiar to those who know Perilake best. The armour of his namesake is gone, but the cloud of depression and hopelessness of these last few weeks is gone too. Amid the grey mists and steep snowbanks, Perilake's brothers see his smile once more. Its warmth even more of a ghost than that of the pale sun, but holding the cold strength and beauty of crafted metal. "We are here, in the land of the Elf and his accursed Herald. We have achieved the impossible already." He breathes in a deep, shuddering breath of icy, and exhales slowly as he nods at the Fox Knight's words. "We will do yet more impossible things, together."

Referee

At noon you reach a snowy meadow between cliff walls, so high up the mountains that it is filled with clouds. You hear birdsong from a lone whitebark tree up in the cliffs, a melody of profound longing that urges you to stay and listen. Through the thick mist you see a trail before you, glittering dust on the snow.

Noon of the first day

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

As the lonesome birdsong reaches his ear, the Dove Knight’s stops and listens. A wistfulness for home fills his heart. “This reminds me of a sorrowful lay from home, about two young courtiers and their forbidden love.” He turns hurriedly to Perilake, but to his surprise he’s met with a confident smile that warms his heart. He crouches to inspect the glittering dust on the path. If he has noticed the Fox Knight’s new coat, he doesn’t show, but he nods reassuringly to him before turning his attention to the ground.

Referee

You crouch down to get a better look at the magic trail but upon closer inspection the motes of dust seem to possess a treacherous edge, tiny flames ready to ignite.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

"In our realm, such an artifice would be used to light the way or defend some place of significance, but the ways of the fae are inscrutable."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos steps forward to the threshold of the glittering path. He bows and asks out loud to the wind and the snow: “Keepers of this place, as strangers in this land, may we walk this bright path before us with no claim or trespass? And if a price is due, then name it for us.” Then he scans the meadow with narrowed eyes, pauses for a moment, cocks his head to one side listening, and finally closes his eyes to feel how his body is responding in the wake of the request.

Referee

It is eerily silent except for the longing song of the bird dampened by the clouds around you. You are almost convinced it sings in a language you once spoke but have forgotten since and the moment passes and only the yearning remains. The mountains seem to lean over the clouded meadow, mildly curious like a cat regarding a dead mouse. As you close your eyes you feel a malicious presence on the trail that is neither bird nor cloud nor mountain. A boggart or sprite maybe, ready to play tricks on you.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox Knight sighs and steps back from the threshold of the glittering path.

“There is only ill will for us down this path. We must find another way.”

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake's hand grips his sword, and he gazes around the valley. "Then we will avoid the path, and seek out the closest shelter we can. Then we will be able to search for a path through on the morrow, for another night in this cold and our fires may be extinguished. I will not have them fade before they burn a path home for Avert." The knights search the meadow for shelter or a dwelling secreted somewhere in this valley, carefully avoiding the glittering trail - and who or whatever laid such a tempting snare.

Referee

You discover a mountain pass to the East that leads down below the clouds but it is narrow and exposed to the elements. You find a frozen waterfall to the south beautiful and cold and in the North a mountain saddle. As you climb higher you see tall fir trees and between them the ruins of a handful of huts, burnt and desolate but the ground is snowless and covered in brown needles. One of the houses still has a roof and a brick built fireplace with ancient ash. The sun has vanished behind the mountains and you are cold and tired. You hear faint animal noises in the distance that Sir Milos recognizes as the barking of a fox

A Valley filled with Clouds

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz sets to preparing a fire, and he can shortly be seen kindling a small fire in the decrepit hearth. His fingers clumsily assemble the tinder, and when he lights the fire, it catches in a sudden conflagration, like flash paper going up. As he feeds the flames, a single thick tendril of smoke rises from the chimney to probe the surrounding countryside.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake paces through the huts, sifting the wreckage and retrieving whatever lumber or stone may be of use. Behind him Zoltan surveys the woods and lands, before pondering the ruins. "There were people here, of a kind."

Referee

You feel the draft from a corner where some of the stones are broken and moss is growing. You find old rusted tools, shears and brushes and under the rotten top of a table the carved toy of a sheep. Slowly the room is filling with warmth and for the first time since you arrived in the Kingdom of Winter you don't see your own breath.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Pigeon Knight shivers as he sits in front of the hearth. Milos sits behind him and wraps his arms around his shoulders. He looks at the other knights with a concerned expression. “The fire will warm our bodies but who will offer us a memory of home to warm our hearts in this unyielding realm?”

Referee

Zoltan holds out his hands to the fire. You can see frostbites on his fingers. He flinches when you mention home and he stays silent.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake quietly takes the carved sheep, and considers it as he sits by the fire. He remembers Inga's mementos from Svenrik, that became their son's favourite toy. He holds it close, feeling the eyes of the others on him. "Many years ago, I travelled to Kranach for the first time." Zoltan shifts in his seat, his shivers interrupted by a small but sudden tension at the name of the home he forswore, of the lineage and loyalties that once felt like a crushing weight around the boy's shoulders. But as Perilake tells the story of their time together there; of the warmth of the people, of the time spent with the Lady of Svenrik in the woods, the tension calms, and a faint smile can be seen. A similar smile plays across Perilake's face; for a moment, his eyes seem to bear the brightness he wore in those early days. Or perhaps it is merely the reflection of the flickering fire.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Perilake's tale warms Heldris’ heart and shakes off some of the weariness from the long day of perilous travel. He stands up to stir the fire and add more wood, as he comes back to the memories of his first winter at Karpat. He smiles, but decides to keep that thought for another day, as the warm memories of home will be a rare and treasured good as they march deeper into the land of the Elf.

A Shelter from the Elements

A Dream

Milos is clambering across a gray rocky landscape high up the side of a mountain. Clouds hug the crags in a dense mist and dark shapes seem to loom within them. He knows he is searching for something but can’t remember what. There is an oppressive urgency. That time is running out. The sharp rocks cut his hands and drops of his blood fall upon the snow. Someone is watching him. He stumbles, falls prone, and sees on the ground before his face, the carcass of a pigeon frozen in a small patch of snow. Mocking laughter seeps from the clouds around him and he despairs.

With a start, he awakens. Zoltan mutters feebly in his sleep and Milos wraps his arms around him more tightly.  

The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom: Summary and Trailer

A plateau in the mountains, devoid of colours, under an overhang barely wide enough to shield them from the winds. Heldris cuts down a small twisted tree and they huddle around the fire like lost children.

The Company of the Black Fleece travelled to the fae kingdom to rescue Ser Perilake's son Avert. But how did they end up in this wondrous and indeed quite perilous place?

~ Summary of events ~

• Tizra, the Herald of the Elf, gifts Sir Anastaz the Harvest Bow.

• Sir Anastaz defeats the Elf, the Steward of Seasons. The Elf banishes Tizra from his realm. Tizra plots his revenge on the Company of the Black Fleece in order to get back in the Elf's good graces.

• Sir Milos makes a pact with a fae lord who grants him knowledge and power … for a price. He later becomes the Fox Knight.

• Ser Perilake marries Lady Inga of Svenrik, the Envoy of house Kranach. Their son Avert is born.

• Perilake's squire Zoltan is knighted by the Frozen Seer and becomes the Pigeon Knight.

The Elf, the Steward of Seasons

• Tizra lures three children from Bohat, a nearby village, into his halls. He replaces them with Vyměněnec.

• The Fox Knight while travelling through Bohat hears rumours about children behaving strangely. The Company decides to investigate. Lady Inga takes Avert to Bohat to speak to the village's mayor.

• Sir Anastaz is lead by the Vyměněnec who replaced Marko to the nearby hills where Marko first disappeared. The changeling tries to kill him but later The Salt Knight gains his trust.

• Avert tells his father about “the moon” who tried to climb into his room. Ser Perilake decides to hide in his son's room and fight the intruder.

• The Fox Knight and The Dove Knight lay a trap for the Fae but it is too late: While they confront Biljana's Vyměněnec Tizra puts a spell on Ser Perilake and abducts Avert.

• Sir Anastaz frees two of the children, Bijlana and Marko from Tizra's Halls. The third one, Saša, stays behind and the halls collapse.

A Strange Kingdom where Winter reigns

• Ser Perilake travels across the Realm to ask the Seers for guidance but none of them can help. Until at last he visits the Veiled Seer who mutters a name: The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom.

• The Pigeon Knight uses his unique ability to lead the Company to a burnt down forest with a single old rowan tree and a small door in its trunk. They crawl through and emerge on the other side in the mountains of a strange kingdom where winter reigns.

Music

Academic Folk Choir of the Plovdiv Academy of Music, Dance and Fine Arts, conducted by Vassilka Spassova - Мехметьо, севда голема (Mehmed, my love)