Morning of the 3rd
Riverday of Petals, Masur Keep
From the battlements
the flags of all the major houses hang motionless in the still air.
Below the towers the courtyard bustles with final preparations for
the wedding as servants bring sacks and barrels into the kitchen and
decorate the Grand Hall. When you wake up, you feel the nervous
energy of the Keep: footsteps in the corridors, the bellowing of oxen
in the courtyard and guests complaining about their quarters. Osvald
had apologized with wringing hands for accommodating the Brotherhood
in a single chamber, but all rooms are occupied by distinguished
emissaries from all over the Realm and beyond. You take your
breakfast in your chamber, which looks out over the wide bend of the
Ryba, where riverboats from as far as Altenburg in the South and
Szolnok in the North are moored along the banks. The envoy of Masur
is standing in the doorway, allowing the servant who brought you
bread, cheese and dates to leave and Anastasia's maid and a tailor to
enter. The maid holds out an elegant white tunic with the golden
beehive of Masur on the chest and a small crest of Farkash on the
shoulder. “The lady begs my lord to try the garment on,” she
whispers. Osvald recounts the appointments of the day while sifting
through a bundle of letters: ”A dress rehearsal for the ceremony in
the morning. At noon, the Brotherhood is invited to join the Circle,
an extended Council meeting with Knights of the Realm and tonight is
a festive banquet in the Grand Hall.” He hands a scroll with the
seal of the Church to Ser Perilake: an invitation to meet Prioress
Desenka, if it pleases his lordship.
RefereeSir Heldris, your eyes
wander to the black-lacquered strongbox with the reliquary of the
Needle Seer on the mantelpiece. Above the hearth hangs an
illustration from a well-known story: The Drowned Man. The wall
around it shows signs of a much larger painting that used to occupy
the space until recently. Surely a coincidence … or is someone
trying to shame you? While you consider this, you are given a scroll
from Farkash: Lady Zofia informs you that the Citadel has been
victorious against the peasant's siege. Their leader Antek is held in
the dungeon and his followers are all dead.
Sir Heldris, The
Dove Knight
Heldris reads the
scroll, chewing his breakfast absent-mindedly. “News from
Farkash,” he says, “it seems that captain Gergana has
handled the militia of the Axe, and their leader is held in the
dungeon.” He peers at the letter once more. “It seems this
implies all the peasants are dead. I wished that our newly found
soldiers would have tried to route them rather than slaughter them…”
He eyes the new painting hanging above the hearth, some kind of
turmoil happening in his stomach. “So today we’ll meet the
Circle, I wonder what we’ll find within: friends, foes, idle
aristocrats or schemers?”
 |
| Masur Keep |
Ser
Perilake, The Gilded Knight
"Few mercenaries
value mercy." Perilake says. "But their actions
remain our responsibility. Perhaps our battle spells an end to the
axe's madness... I fear the vassals anger may still smoulder. Even if
the blazing fury of the curse is now extinguished, the bloodshed of a
massacre is a poor method for cooling the tempers of those with some
measure to their cause." His frown turns to a gentle smile as
he looks at Anastasz. "Yet this is why we are here, yes? For
the wedding of Salt and Honey. The realm must be whole, and we may
find peace."
Sir
Anastaz, The Salt Knight
Anastaz frowns, then
looks up at Perilake, and his face relaxes. "We cannot be
everywhere at once. After this ceremony, we shall set the realm to
rights."
Referee
The maid is still
holding the garment, moving it slightly from left to right to get the
Salt Knight's attention but stays silent in the presence of such
important knights. Osvald dismisses her with a lazy wave of his hand
as if shooing away a fly: ”The tunic will fit just fine, thank you.
“ He looks expressionless at Anastaz. “Lady Anastasia will be
waiting in the Grand Hall to go through the ceremony. If my lord is
ready, shall we …? ” A boy runs past the door, comes to a
skittering halt in the corridor and comes into view again “My lord,
my lord,” he tries to whisper but his excitement betrays his
efforts, “... a delegation from Karpat is approaching. Lady Dorota
...” Osvald nods excitedly. “Excellent!” and to the Salt
Knight: “I trust you find the Grand Hall without me” When he is
gone the maid gives another hopeful wave of the tunic.
Sir
Anastaz, The Salt Knight
Anastaz sighs and
pulls the tunic over his clothes. He looks at the tailor and raises
an eyebrow.
Referee
The tailor pulls here
and there, puts some pins into the fabric and eventually gives a
satisfied grunt. After he and the maid have left, the room is finally
silent. There is an odd stale smell in the air.
Ser
Perilake, The Gilded Knight
Perilake takes his
leave, to visit the Prioress before the business of the circle. After
the horrific triumphs of the search for the Needle Seekers relic, he
found comfort in writing a letter to his wife, and a letter to his
son. A different message for both, but each speaking of his love, his
promise to them, and the comfort he finds in their memories and the
hope of their future. He feels the weight of the cracked lens in his
pocket, and the face of Ludmer writhes in his memory. He hopes Inga
and Avert received his letter. In their youth, such letters brought
his love to Inga no matter the distance between them. He hopes they
may still. But for now, her servant.
Sir
Heldris, The Dove Knight
Despite the wolfish
shadow that creeps at the back of his mind, the Dove Knight smiles at
the tailor's attempts to dress up the Salt Knight properly. His eyes
fall on the painting again, and he stands up to walk over and look
closely at the details. “It's a very interesting painting that
hangs over the hearth. Where does it come from? Clearly it's a recent
addition."
Referee
A servant who has
quietly waited at the door steps forward. “It is from the story
Death and the Goose Herder.” She looks at it. “It is a rather
grim tale … but the illustration is … “ she is searching for
words and finishes unconvincingly ”… pretty. The lady ordered us
to hang it up.”
Sir Heldris, The Dove Knight
Heldris frowns,
still staring at the painting. "Thank you, you can go now."
He smiles at the servant and waits for her to leave. After a few
minutes he steps out of the chambers to look for the Acolyte of the
Entombed Seer.
Referee
Perilake, the two
Seeker Knights standing guard at Desenka's door bow deeply before you
and you are led into her room by a young nun. The Prioress, a thin,
middle-aged woman sitting at the window, looks up from her book and
smiles briefly. Her crimson robe does nothing to help her pale
complexion, standing in stark contrast to the simple habit of the nun
who led you in. “Blessed be the Mother,” she says, her voice too
loud for the small room. “You have my deepest gratitude, Ser
Perilake, for heeding my call so quickly.” She relays greetings
from Inga and Avert but doesn't indicate that it is in response to
the letters you sent. She then proceeds to congratulate you for
defeating the Axebearer and crushing the peasant rebellion. ”It is
just to kill a rebellious serf, as when one must kill a mad dog,”
she declares. ”... If you do not strike him, he will strike you,
and a whole land with you.” The young nun shifts uncomfortably.
“But let us not dwell on these unpleasant matters, we have a
wedding to celebrate.” Another brief smile. “The Mother hopes
that King Anastaz will finally bring peace to the Realm now that the
Child is born and the Son has returned.” Curiously she doesn't
mention the fact that the child disappeared, continuing instead: ”I
have with me a warband of the Order who will join any military
campaign the new King might want to conduct … under the condition
that the wedding is blessed by the Church instead of the Acolyte of
the … the … Dead Seer. Will you support mother Inga's
proposition?
 |
| Prioress Desanka |
Referee
Desenka has put a hand
behind her ear while you were speaking and the young nun has to
repeat some of your words, but finally the Prioress nods. “There
will be a future for the Realm without the old gods, without their
despicable lust for blood and depravity … but it is a long path and
we need to wait for the Child to lead us.” She gets up and makes
the sign of the cradle. “Eventually, the Church will prevail, but
for now ... speak to the King, I am sure he will listen. The Queen
...” she weighs her words carefully, “the Queen might need some
convincing.” She extends her pale hand.
Ser
Perilake, The Gilded Knight
Perilake takes her
hand, and helps her stand, his smile now slightly regretful. "I
do not know the Queen well, but I know that the ability to be
convinced of something for the good of the realm is among her chief
virtues." As he leaves the prioress, he ponders his good
fortune. Fate may play its cruel games with those who marry for love,
but at least it blesses them first. He prays that those those who
marry for duty alone may be spared greater sacrifice.
Referee
Sir Anastaz, Courtiers
bow when you approach and start whispering after you have passed and
all the guards stand in attention. From outside you hear a choir
practising and through a window you see them standing in the
courtyard while behind them a warband of spearmen arrive, thin and
dusty from the road and carrying the banner of Karpat. In the Grand
Hall Lady Lydia sits on a chair, dressed in tattered robes and
leaning her chin on a cane. She is watching the podium where the
Queen is standing between her maids. Anastasia turns around and
smiles thinly: “Ah there you are. Let's talk about tomorrow: Who is
leading you to the altar?” From somewhere a grating voice sings:
I hope it's not the one
armed Knight
who walks to the altar on your side.
He saves half his
coin on the gauntlet he wears,
And claps with one palm at the wedding
affairs!
and you see an absurdly
thin man in garish clothes sitting below the podium pointing with his
marotte at you. "Shush, you fool" the lady laughs and looks
at you expectantly. ”So who is it? Sir Zoltan or Ser Perilake? Oh
or it could be Gundhilde!”
Sir
Anastaz, The Salt Knight
What may have been
intended as a smile looks more like a sneer as Anastaz regards the
jester. "The fool must have heard our conversations in
chambers. Sir Heldris is indeed my choice. With one arm, he has
accomplished more than most knights can with two."
Referee
Lady Anastasia rushes
down to meet you at eye level. Her face is flushed as she leans in
and breathlessly whispers: “ I was at my brother's grave, we … I
carried his bones to his tomb! “ The maids on the stage pretend to
arrange the flowers, only Lydia cranes her neck in hopes to pick up a
word. “My mother will be attending the wedding, for rivers
sake. She hasn't been smiling ever since her son ... You can't be
serious!”
Sir
Anastaz, The Salt Knight
Anastaz's lip
uncurls. He whispers, "If not for the Dove Knight, Urban
would still occupy Farkash Keep, or the followers of the Axe would.
Nor would we have found your precious relic. Would you prefer your
mother be reminded that you are allying yourself with a heretical
order, or that the next King will not be our son?"
Referee
“It would make me
very happy if you reconsider. I don't doubt his fame nor his legend …
it is precisely that I believe all of it why I don't want him near
me.” Her eyes flash, “As for the Order: Say what you want about
the Hound, at least he follows our traditions … I believe their
warband is here to intimidate us. Hah!” She has given up any
pretence of keeping your discussion private.”They will not! If it
comes to it, I have them all killed!” Lady Lydia stares at you, her
sunken face without expression ”Say the word Queen,” she mumbles
toothlessly ”... and it will be done.”
Sir
Anastaz, The Salt Knight
Anastaz softly holds
the Queen's fingers. "I do not like them either, but they are
here because they sense your power. They do not wish to be chained to
a sinking ship. Shall Zoltan accompany me to the altar, then, to
remind the vassals who will succeed their King?"
Referee
She sighs with relief.
“Thank you” she breathes and presses your hand. “So, after
Zoltan takes you to the altar, the Acolyte will present the blessing
of the Seers and anoint us with the ashes of the dead and we will
walk over there where you will be crowned,“ she points at the two
thrones in the centre of the Hall “ … and then the rulers and
Knights of the Realm will step forward and pledge loyalty to our
house. Then you will address your subjects. You do have a speech
prepared?” The rest of the morning is spent rehearsing where to
stand and walk and when to talk.
 |
| The Court Jester |
Ser
Perilake, The Gilded Knight
Perilake returns to
their chambers, but finds Anastasz and Heldris otherwise engaged. He
goes in search of Lady Freya. At the very least, he can learn what
has become of another member of his family in the years thrice
stolen.
Referee
You find Lady Freya
Svensdottir in her room, a turret with a view over the northern
hills, and she gets up and embraces you. She has aged more gracefully
than Inga, with greying hair and laughter lines around her eyes. She
inspects you with great interest. ”So it is true: you even tricked
time itself with your charming smile.“ She laughs. ”You know, I
was jealous of Inga when she found such a dapper Knight in shiny
armour, but I was very young then and foolish.” There are two beds
in the small room, with clothes and armour lying on one. She follows
your eyes. “I believe you haven't met my son, Waldemar, yet. He was
but a wee child when you ...”
Ser
Perilake, The Gilded Knight
"When I left to
retrieve your nephew, aye." Perilake's eyes sting briefly as
his heart swells with both happiness and sadness at the years lost,
"Avert has grown too, though time has played its games with all
of us. He is now a youth, but some years short of his younger nephew.
He is different from the boy you knew - but he is clever, and he is
brave; the cruelty of the Elves could not change that."
Perilake clasps Freya's hands, and they sit at the small table
together. "I have found few things to be happy about since
my return, but I can count you and Waldemar alongside reuniting Avert
with his mother." His joy is untarnished by the weight of
Inga's lonely years, or the complication of her faith. Gold may shine
brightly, but it is heavier than steel; hope softens its own heavy
burden. "I cannot wait to meet the man Waldemar has become.
Is he knighted? Or squiring?"
Referee
“He is a Knight and a
good one as far as I can tell. He will compete in the Grand Jousting
Tournament this year and I hear he has good chances … now that King
Anastaz won't be allowed to compete.” She bites her lips and adds
hastily,”.. of course he won't have a chance against the Gilded
Knight!” She explains that Waldemar excels with the axe and rides
like a Waldochian, he loves dancing and jousting and has broken many
a fair maiden's heart with his poetry. You don't know how much of it
is true or just a proud mother talking. Eventually she sighs and
looks out of the window. “Have you spoken with Inga? We used to
exchange letters frequently when she was an envoy at Kranach and
later as the lady of Farkash but ever since … well, she found
solace in the teachings of the Cult of the Child and her letters
became … spiritual in nature and it seems we have grown apart. Of
course I am happy that you brought Avert back from this awful place
and I'm happy for her … but I … I miss her.” She tells you that
the church is not widely recognized in Svenrik and that she herself
feels beholden to the old ways. She worries that this might be the
reason the sisters are now estranged.
Ser
Perilake, The Gilded Knight
"I miss her too."
Perilake says quietly, and all is silent for long moments. Freya
reaches an arm to his shoulder, and he clasps it, drawing strength
from the comfort. When he speaks again, his sister in law hears the
pain she feels in her own heart. "Inga is my love, and she
was alone, waiting for her son. I cannot return those years to her.
.. but whatever strange form it has taken, her faith in my promise
that Avert would be returned remained strong." He clasps
Freya's hand before him. "I would seek to end the
estrangement in our family - and that of the realm. The Cult of the
Child is now the Church of the Child, and whatever tricks time may
play, it only marches forward. We cannot go back to how things were,
we can only build our tomorrow - together." He looks
pleadingly at Freya. "My hope - our hope - is to reunite the
realm. This new faith, it cannot be simply dismissed; it must be
honoured, and this marriage is a chance for Old and New to march
forwards, together. A blessing by both Seers and Church. Will you
lend your voice to mine?" Unspoken, the uncomfortable truth
he knows must be in Freya's mind; that many of the Seekers are
warriors, and better a friend than a foe, whose swords may cross with
her sons before any grand tourney...
Referee
Freya holds on to your
hand while she is thinking. Eventually she looks up with a smile:
“The Church can't be all that bad if Inga leads it. Of course the
East will never abandon the old ways but maybe if we allow the new
practice, Inga will find it in her heart to come to Kronborg. A
blessing by both Church and Seers will have the support of Svenrik!”
She gets up with your help.”I believe a meeting is planned in the
Throne Room? We shouldn't let the Council waiting.”
Sir
Anastaz, The Salt Knight
As he leaves the
great hall, discarding some of the outermost vestments, the Salt
Knight finds the closest servant to burden with the groom's garb.
"Where is the Pigeon Knight?" he asks.
Referee
The servant holds the
garment with both arms and looks around alarmed. After some
deliberation she returns and points you towards the small library.
Zoltan looks surprised when you tell him about his role in the
wedding but he accepts reluctantly: “I'd better get used to all the
formalities but to be frank: I wish you'd rule for a long time …
and I could be questing in foreign Realms.” He shrugs ”But this
is just a dream, aunt Zdenka will insist that we draw a precise
timeline of your rule until the final transfer of power. Have you
thought about it yet?”
Sir Anastaz, The
Salt Knight
"I may live for
decades yet." Anastaz glances around the empty room. "I
may die tomorrow. Only the Seers know. I am certain, though, that
Masur will require a tie to your bloodline, whether you marry
Anastasia's sister or your son marries our daughter. In any case, one
day, after Barow has been driven from the realm, a new age will dawn,
and we will have to start thinking about the City."
Referee
The Pigeon Knight
nods doubtfully: “Zdenka can be very stubborn about these
things. The Queen will find that out sooner rather than later.
Speaking of which: Council and Circle will meet in a moment.” He
returns his book about Masurian legends and sighs, “Another
formality to get through. Are you coming?”
Sir Anastaz, The
Salt Knight
Anastaz puts a hand
on Zoltan's shoulder. "There are far greater burdens a ruler
must shoulder. You will do well to acclimate early."
 |
| Sir Anton (behind the tree) enjoying the River View |
Referee
Heldris, you ask around
and search the castle and finally you are on the battlements and a
guard points at a lone figure leaning against a tree by the water.
While you leave the castle you feel something in your pocket and when
you check you find a chestnut and when you take it out there is a
rough white cloth sticking out of it. It smells dusty and stale.
There is the symbol of the elder tree stitched into it and a single
word: Beware! The acolyte laboriously gets up when you approach and
bows. “Sir Heldris” the old man croaks as if he hasn't spoken for
day and you recognize it is Sir Anton. You both lean against the tree
and look over the river and when you ask him about the illustration
of the Drowned Man he tells you the story of
Death and the Goose
Herder
A poor herder went along the shore of a large and stormy
water, herding many white geese. To this on came Death over water,
and was asked by the herder, whence he came from, and whence he
wanted to go? Death answered, that he came out of the water and
wanted to go out of the world. The poor gooseherder asked futher: how
does one go forth out of the world? Death said, I will show you and
he dragged the poor man into the water and drowned him.
Sir Heldris, The Dove Knight
"An interesting
tale," says the Dove Knight. He looks up at the tree under which
they're standing. "Perhaps a bit too dramatic, don't you think?
There are worlds one can get to without resorting to such extreme
mesures. Although these are not realms I would suggest anyone should
visit..." He pauses, thinking back to the Thrice-Ninth Kingdom.
"Who do you think would be the gooseherder, if the story were
to take place today? And who Death? Who shall be wary of whose trick
words?"
Referee
A barge from the North
passes under the toll bridge and the acolyte watches it with grey
eyes that seem to shine in his shrivelled face. After what feels like
an eternity, he finally says, “Many Knights visit the Seer, but
only a few receive an answer and fewer still are happy with the
Seer's words. They always hope for a truth behind the truth and many
secrets revealed.” Guards start inspecting the barge, which bears
the symbol of a golden fish, and tally furs and ivory. “I think
death is death, and the Goatherder is all of us. We shouldn't look
for death or else he will find us sooner than we would want him to.”
The wind carries the sound of voices from the bridge and they seem to
argue over the toll. ”It might be a warning not to be too curious
or it might be a message to remind you of past deeds but frankly, I
have been away from Court for too many years to be of any help in
these matters.” Sir Anton turns to look at you. ”I am very old
and soon death will come for me. I wonder… are you happy, Dove
Knight?”
Sir Heldris, The Dove Knight
The Dove Knight
smiles. "Aye, I too must have lost touch with the ways of
the court." He follows Anton’s gaze to the slowly drifting
barge, musing about his question. "Happiness has always been
a fleeting thing. The light of a candle destined to go out." He
observes the hands on the barge’s deck getting busy with ropes and
sails, envying their complex but straightforward actions. "I
dream of spires of roots that shoot towards the sky. Soon my grasp
upon this world and its worries will loosen up. My only hope is to
leave more happiness in it that I have found, with all the sacrifices
and contradictions that’ll entail."