The short, tanned skinned and mustachioed man opened his mouth to protest and possibly insult me again when Master Stagian stood up, interrupting the would-be tirade. “If he is lying, he is very good at it. Even if he were and we knew he was, we could not pull it from him without taking longer than we have. And using means that might cause . . .” Stagian looked at Tol’geth who loomed in the corner of the room scowling at everyone. “ . . . some disagreement.” Tol’geth grinned slightly, but quickly hid his desire for a fight behind a grunt of agreement. “What we would really like to know young player is how your people created such complexity without magic.”
“Uh, you mean the song itself?” I asked. Stagian inclined his head.
“Just so. I would consider even the first song you played among the equals of our standard play sets and hymnals. The second song you played was . . .” Stagian trailed off as if lost for the right word.
“A masterpiece in every way.” Alara said from where she stood near the back of the room near Tol’geth. Stagian inclined his head again towards her in a slight bow.
“Yes. Exactly.” All the eyes in the small room fell on me. Except for Zed, who was playing with some simple mana construct Ailsa had given him. The Fairy had been doing that more and more, handing the old mage mana puzzles for him to solve or to keep him entertained as time went on.
“Well, I already gave the scale and the basic musical theory of my homeland to the elves. Might as well share that with you too.” The man’s eyes lit up, and a broad smile crossed his face.
“We must warm up before our play. But, if you can provide us with a basic explanation of that theory by the time we finish playing and the ball begins, I as grand master of the northern guild of bards will grant you a boon.” I was sure greed filled my eyes. When he saw my excitement, he laughed before ushering the other masters out of the room and up the stairs to the stage. “There should be paper in here somewhere. If not, I am sure the priests can bring it too you.” With that he left, closing the door behind him, leaving me and my companions alone in the odd office room that had been converted into the bard’s dressing room.
“Looks like your time is going to be spent not dancing with pretty noble women, but writing. Good luck, literarian.” Ailsa giggled teasingly before zipping over to Tol’geths shoulder.
“I will go meet with the Traser. He must know what became of us all.” Tol’geth looked uneasily over at Zed as I pulled out pen and paper from my backpack that Ailsa had been kind enough to pull out of her magical storage space. “What do we do with him?”
“Oh, just leave him alone to do his test. After that he only has three more to do.” Ailsa said from atop the barbarian’s shoulder.
“Test for what? I asked. “I have been meaning to ask you about that. What is going on with him?”
“Oh, right. Well, he said I could tell you. Might as well spill the beans, even though secrets are always fun.” She giggled before continuing. “He got hexed by a pixie who was trying to bless him for saving its life. Those little brats can’t weave a proper spell if their lives depended on it. I have spent nearly as much time out here in Ethria fixing their mistakes then I have actually doing missions and earning credit for the fae so we can return.”
“Is that what being a forsaken means?” I asked, trying to keep my voice nonchalant. She just rolled her eyes.
“Kinda yeah. But not really. It means, well, it means I screwed up. Normally fairies like me don’t go on missions solo. We go in groups, mini-courts. Well, last go around that draugr prince I told you about? Yeah, he, well, he started getting into some things I warned him about. And they ended up twisting him pretty badly. Long story short, he started hearing members of my team. And I—” She trailed off in thought for a second. “Well, I didn’t put a stop to it like I should have. We were so close to completing the mission I thought we could just tough it out, you know? But, well, it didn’t end well. Some fairies got hurt, and it was my fault. When it was time for the next mission call, no one wanted to come along with me. No one answered my call for help, and my queen gave me the title. It means—”
“It means you’re alone.” I said, trying to keep my voice soft. “But Ailsa, you’re not alone. You’re with me, Tol’geth, Traser, and Zed. You’re not forsaken at all. No matter what queen bossy says. Right Tol’geth?”
“Right! A brave leader knows they will make mistakes. The mark of a good leader is to learn from them. The mark of an outstanding leader is to not let such failures break their spirits. It is the last test of a Tep’tel’deen before the return! The test of leadership!” The music overhead played, interrupting my barbarian companion.
“You should go. This won’t take me long to get the basics down. But, I think I’m going to get at least the first measure of Vivaldi’s piece down on paper for them.” With that, my friends left, and I went to work.
---
I sat back in my chair roughly thirty minutes later listening to the muffled music playing overhead, finished with the scale and a brief explanation of it and how the western music scale mapped onto their oversized piano. I had also finished several measures of Vivaldi’s work, but my hand was cramping and I felt I had done enough for them to figure out the rest. Zed was still playing with his mana test thing, manipulating it with his fingers and his will, an expression of intense concentration on his face. I got up and stretched a bit, enjoying the brief time alone to just explore the room. It looked like it had been an office before the troop of bards took it over as their dressing room. I amused myself by rifling through the desk’s drawers, reading some papers there. I grew bored when I found they were just requisition orders for various ingredients. Though there were a few things I took some notes on, like where the Dominus sect purchased most of the goods they used. I also learned that they needed goods in the first place.
Most of them were ingredients for various magical medicines and potions of different kinds. I really did not know what they used the ingredients for, but I thought the info might be useful one day soon so I took careful notes.
The door opened and two people walked in. Alara and master Stagian closed the door behind them. “Wait, if you’re down here, then who’s playing up there?” I asked, and the two smiled.
“We aren’t needed for the next several songs.” Alara said. Stagian walked to the desk, picking up the notes I had left for them and looking them over.
“I see. Well, I’ll need to take some time to reconstruct this but, this might just prove very useful. Your people have a well thought out and standardized scale, and a fully fleshed out musical theory. Even if the other masters do not adopt this, I will. A four note musical scale, no matter what some say, is not broad enough for true complexity. Even in the realm of pure theory.” He put the notes down and looked me in the eye.
“Alara here says that we might do you a service in return rather than a boon. Is this true?” I smiled and nodded.
“I need a little help with some traps.”
End Part 1
Interlude 1: The Knightly Orders
“A true warrior fights for those who cannot fight for themselves. A smart warrior fights without fists and swords, but uses wisdom, words, and truth.” - Unknown.
Fort Saint Michael, 7th Novos, 2989 AoR
Knight Commander Sire Rodrick
The seven knight commanders sat at the table in their stone hall. Dedicated attendants brought them food and drink. None of the seven deadly men ate, all but one wore visages of concern and worry.
“How could you pledge us to that wizard’s aid, Sire Rodrick?” Sir Baristan’s voice echoed. “Defending helpless travelers and providing provision to those devoid of hope is one thing. And a noble thing indeed. But it is something we have all agreed to as the will of the council. How can we be expected to fight against these constant bandit raids if we can be called to some wizard’s service at a moment’s notice!?” The large man sighed, leaning back into his chair. The pressures that the seven orders felt since the lon
g march north had begun were getting to him and his knights, the brave members of the Order of the Wounded Heart. Just as it was getting to all of them.
“Indeed, particularly when the wizard’s course is so clearly set against Telik’s and the sorcerer.” The clear tenor voice of Sir Sedric, the high commander of the order of the black lotus, chided. His was a group of medicos, knightly healers by trade. They were decent warriors. No one doubted their mettle in combat. But their greatest strength and the reason the order had been founded was to heal. The man himself was a test in those contradictions. Slight of build, light on his feet, but a more deadly warrior was difficult to find. Even so, his speciality lied in poisons. Their treatment, healing, and when danger arrived some whispered in the dark places of the fort, their application.
“That the two of you are allied in your concern only underlines ours!” said a third commander. Sir Ul’gin, the leader of the Rising Suns. A small group of third and fourth son nobles, badly equipped, newly minted, and poor but for their class’s birthright and their pride. The man reminded Rodrick of himself when he had first started out. “Rodrick? What do you have to say for yourself? You put us all into a situation that none of us approved of.”
Rodrick Knight Commander of the Order of the Second Sons, nodded along as his counterparts, his friends, all complained. Every one of them had some grievance, most of them some riff on the same theme as Sir Sedric. His decision did in fact put them in a dangerous position politically. It put them directly on a collision course with Telik and his pet sorcerer, not to mention whatever underhanded or secret contracts or alliances the two had formed over the years. How Telik and the sorcerer had become allies no one knew, but everyone in the region for the last few years had avoided dealing with the problem. This had allowed Telik to gather strength. Now, Telik’s position was such that to root out the evil that Rodrick and the rest of the seven orders suspected them of would be difficult. It would prove costly. Particularly, he knew if they did it alone.
The six other commanders eventually, after nearly two hours of constant complaining, calmed. Rodrick let his friends, his brothers, burn out their heat. All the while gathering information and planning, using the truth that underlined their words as counsel. He had not spoken in his own defense, simply nodding along in understanding of their complaints and opposition. Finally, with this direct question from Ul’gin he raised a hand silencing the table.
“Brothers, please. Allow me now to speak. I have listened carefully and I understand your concerns. This puts us all in a bad place, politically, financially, militarily, and in many other ways that we can scarcely afford.” Rodrick stood. His heavy wooden chair scraping along the stone floor behind him. An aid pulled it back further, allowing him room to stand.
Some observers might think that this was because of a desire to loom over the other commanders, to assert his authority as their chief. As the chief financier and true owner of the keep, that would be his right, but it would also be wrong. As their chairman and leader, he had to keep their trust, and that meant showing respect. But those cynical outside observers would all be wrong. Rodrick was nervous, a feeling he had long been unacquainted with. The six other men around the table saw this for what it was, a warrior’s reaction to uncertainty.
“The very fact that acting puts us in such danger, proves my decision to help the wizard all the more.”
“What do you mean by that? Explain,” demanded the scholarly Sir Ye’lon. Ye’lon was master of the order of the Tower of Knowledge. A strange and small order of scholarly knights who learned magic as much as they learned of the sword. Some called them weak, and those who did so were often fools. Every member of that illusive arcane order was some form of spell blade. Masters of at least one martial weapon and journeymen of some augmentation magic that would enhance their martial prowess.
Rodrick nodded his acceptance of the question. “Five years ago, this fort, this group of knights and brotherhood of orders, was strong. We were far from the strongest power in the region, that is true. But we were wealthy enough for our needs and had numbers enough to see steady growth. We were politically respected, if not liked by most of the other powers. Are we so today?” All of them, every one of the order leaders, shook their heads sadly at his words. Their recruiting had died to a trickle. They had financial setback after setback, and had only been burdened with greater and greater responsibilities over the last three years. Their luck had been poor, their treasury was nearly empty, and morale was suffering because of it.
“It was all because of a string of bad luck I thought just a year ago. Much like the rest of you. But despite our hard work, despite our strength and the services we provide to the county? That bad luck has continued. It grew just last month to the point I thought we were under a coordinated assault from all sides. A campaign to weaken and then destroy us. Under that suspicion, I asked Commander Bri’skal of the Order of the Ever Vigilant Eye to look into it for us. He investigated and just three days ago brought me his findings. Bri’skal? Please tell the others what you told me?”
The old man nodded. He was a grizzled law keeper. A commoner from birth, who was given the rare honor of being raised to knighthood when he caught a murderer in his early twenties. The Count had been so pleased that he raised him to the petty nobility. From there, the man crawled up the social ladder, eventually becoming a knight and changing his class permanently. Now he was old, one eye missing, white hair for what little there was left on his head.
“Will do, commander, and I think I see where you are going with this wizard fellow.” The old commander brought up a satchel and rummaged in it for a moment. Eventually, he produced a large map and unfolded it on the table. Hand-written notes filled the empty spaces on the map, each listed with numbers of various expenses and simple names of people he had contacted. “Let me begin at the beginning. Do you all remember the barge tipping incident five years ago?” All the heads in the room nodded. Expressions of disgust and sadness crossed many of their faces. “Good. Well, that is where I began my investigation. We lost nearly fifteen members of various orders that day—”
The old law keeper laid it all out. Setback after setback. A loss of tax revenue from a village that went independent before being burned to the ground by ravagers just the next day. The knights had extracted a price from the bandits anyway, but the incident had discredited them among many of the local towns and villages. It made them look like little more than thugs in some eyes.
The time they lost toll rights to the stone bridge along the king’s road because the Count wanted to reward some petty noble house or another. The pilgrims incident along the road to the great cathedral, where pious travelers were raided. Despite their best efforts, the combined orders had failed to track the culprits. And on and on it went. Incident after incident. Lost revenue stream, after political disgrace from the small to the large for five years.
When it was all done, and the last words of the tale were spoken, the law keeper paused for just a moment before explaining what it all meant. “First, I am not saying everything that has happened to us over the last five years can be tied to the cardinal and his pet. What I think happened was that nearly three years ago.” He pointed to the place in his timeline. At the bottom of the map where the Bridge incident had happened. “... about the time the sorcerer showed up, the Cardinal began subtle workings against us. At first it was political, then financial, and finally it grew into violence. That noble house that took over the revenues of the Stone Bridge from us? They were the Cardinals cousins. The reavers we killed in retaliation? Well, that town went independent shortly after a rare visit by the Cardinal’s subordinate priests who urged the undertaking. Nearly three quarters of the incidents since the Bridge can be traced in some way, but never directly, to the Cardinal.”
The law keeper sat down with a heave. He was old, and though his mind was as keen as ever, his body was paining him. “Well, I think that’s where you come in, Rodrick. I’ve explained what’s ha
ppened, time for you to take us forward.” Rodrick put his hand on the older knight’s shoulder in thanks.
“I think it is quite clear that the Cardinal is no longer a force for stability in the county. What’s worse, it’s clear to me at least that he means to diminish us and eventually destroy us as a rival power. With the Count and the other secular knightly orders gone, and the countess absorbed in trying to keep the city’s finances from spiraling out of control, I don’t think we can expect any proper redress. At least not this year.”
“It is just a matter of time before he makes a move against the two other bishops in the region.” Sir Sedric said, as he scrutinized the map. “With the throne and the church to the south in turmoil, there would be no outside interference when he makes his move. Gods above, he only needs to move a few more pieces and he’ll have everything he wants.” Sir Sedric sat back in his chair and let out a long sigh of exhaustion.
“Worse, the mage tower is practically devoid of real masters, and the bards will leave after tonight. If Telik can make his move before the Count comes we will be the only other power, political or ecclesiastical that can stand against him. My plan, brothers, is to support this wizard and use his inevitable attack on the sorcerer’s stronghold as an opportunity to clean up this mess. This will not be a long drawn-out process Sedric. From what I understand, the boy seeks to attack within the next day or two. What say you all?”
Ethria 3: The Liberator Page 22
