Shadow Kingdom

by N. A. Oberheide

  He handed the letter over to the old sage who wasted no time in donning his reading bifocals and scanning the letter. Ektor’s face almost immediately lost its usual charm and curiosity and was instead replaced by a pale faced concern.

  “Naurus pray tell, do you even know where Arx Fatalis is?”

  “No, never heard of it.”

  “It’s the King’s Keep, it’s just the old official name for it. A bit odd that official correspondence would refer to it like that especially as addressed to the likes of you, no offense my boy. Hm…what in the world have you gotten into lately?” Ektor asked pointedly.

  Naurus went over his last few days out on deployment and how he got to where he was now. The old man seemed just as concerned as confused by the time the story had concluded.

  “So you have found a cure…right?”

  Ektor scratched his chin and averted his eyes. “Well no…” He paused struggling for words. “It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. That letter bodes that you will soon be in contact with people far more knowledgeable than I. As for now, all I can tell you is that curse you have seems to be triggered by negative events or emotions of some sort. At least that’s the pattern I’ve deduced.”

  “So this letter is real? I’m just supposed to waltz up to the king himself?” Naurus asked, changing the topic to what concerned him more at the moment.

  “Yes it’s real as far as I can tell. The seal, the handwriting, even the particular shade of this parchment paper is all official stationary as best I know it.”

  A heavy silence filled the room as the younger contemplated the purpose and prose of this unexpected journey to an area that he had never even visited before.

  “So, what will you do?” Ektor suddenly broke the silence.

  “I suppose I will have to go. What other choice do I have? You say it’s real, and I’ll be damned if I play myself by ignoring this only to get punished for it.” Said Naurus with some lament.

  “A wise choice, young man. Sometimes you have to seize the day instead of letting indecision paralyze you. Just know that I will be here eagerly awaiting your return. Maybe you’ll be crowned as Prince of the Dominion!” Ektor cracked out laughing, with his young friend joining in for a brief chuckle as he struggled with the somber reality of the unknown.

  “Ektor, have you ever been up there? What’s it like?”

  “Well, it’s been a very long time you see. The Kings District is beautiful and clean as can be, crime is of course nonexistent given the mounted lancers on every corner and at every gate. Arx Fatalis itself, I have faint memories. A large portion of it lies underground though. Worry not, you will be escorted so as to not get lost.”

  “What about the Crimson Guard? I heard they attack all commoners on sight unless you know a secret passphrase and—”

  “No no, all that garbage you’ve been reading by drunks and bums who are long since dead is just that…garbage made up for peril in stories and scaring kids. The Crimson Guard is real, don’t get me wrong, but they will see you before you see them. You need not worry about any trouble if you stay on your best behavior!” Ektor cut him off in his lecturing professorial tone.

  “Don’t you worry about that! No chicken kicking or lollygagging from me!” Naurus assured his speckled old friend.

  “Well you should head out soon then, young man. Time stops for no man, and you have a summons from the powers that be in your hand. May Fortune smile upon you.”

  They said their goodbyes and Naurus made his way back home to get a bundle together for the trip. If he hustled, he could probably get to the Kings District in the evening and then the fortress of Arx Fatalis was just beyond that. Grabbing his satchel, he stuffed it with the letter, a couple of Ektor’s vials, and some bread. He laced his boots up, made sure his service uniform was in perfect order, and made his way out of the empty house. The fog was starting to burn up as he made his way onto the Adamantine Highway. Traffic gradually picked up as the morning wore on into noon. The hustle and bustle of goods, people, horses, and carts moving to and fro hardly jostled him from the anxious thoughts that were clouding his head.

  Indeed, he had never so much as visited the Kings District, let alone the keep that lay directly north of there. Despite what Ektor said, he still worried about the Crimson Guard as it was very rare for anyone outside of the royal circle to have even seen them, let alone describe them in any specific detail. They were the King’s personal bodyguard, but rumors abound and conflicting accounts about if they even existed were not uncommon which only made Naurus more leery. He decided to trust Ektor and stay on his best conduct and manners regardless. He still wasn’t sure what the purpose of this whole journey was, but it was a long march ahead with lots for him to think about in the hours preceding his arrival.

  He did his best to shelve his mostly unfounded concerns to the back of his head and instead try to enjoy the scenery of the city scape as rarely ever did he travel this far north, and never past the gated walls that separated the Kings District from the lower levels of the city. Soon after noon passed, and he had a paltry lunch of bread, he was past the smokestacks of the foundry and well on his way to the Old Quarter. He rarely had time or the occasion to come to this historic section of the city except for the occasional parade or festival his parents would drag him to. It had been years since he had been here, but it was much the same as he remembered it.

  The shops and buildings were an odd mixture of ramshackle wooden walled structures with cracking paint to brick and mortar multilevel units that were so new they were almost shiny. It seemed to Naurus that it was almost a glacially paced battle between the old school and the new order, with the latter eeking out ahead at least compared to when he visited as a child. It was certainly an interesting bite size history lesson in how far the kingdom had come and made Naurus wonder what new if any lay ahead farther north behind the gilded walls of the Kings District. At this point Dragon’s Peak loomed large above him, with the keep at Arx Fatalis now just coming into clear view halfway up to the peak, commanding a dominating view over the kingdom and all its lands below.

  Evening was upon the kingdom as the sun made its slow and steady retreat beyond the mountains. Naurus was tired and his feet were starting to hurt, but he finally saw the Kings District standing majestically in the distance. The Adamantine Highway continued its slow and steady upwards slope through this district. The only passage through lay guarded by a wrought iron double portcullis flanked by a limestone turreted guardhouse that command a presence over the area. The high limestone walls replete with firing slits and more men at the parapets that connected to the guardhouse made for the start of an encirclement of this area by defensive walls, dividing it from the rest of the kingdom in no uncertain terms.

  Coming within bowshot of the guardhouse, the pair of Imperial Lancers in front of the gate came into clear view. They were hard to miss indeed, mounted on war horses with twelve foot long steel-tipped lances. They were far more resplendent than the typical city watch. Their uniforms were unlike any other in the kingdom, being a long sleeve cream colored doublet and matching pants with a scarlet stripe running down the outseam and bloused into brown cavalry boots. Their mirror polished steel cuirasses were trimmed in gold scaled leather straps and this whole ensemble was topped by a great winged barbute encapsulating their heads. These without a doubt were the signature mark of the Imperial Lancers, the swept back finely polished wings on the barbutes made for an impression of flying, especially at full tilt as Naurus had only seen in parades a long time ago.

  As he drew closer to the mounted lancers, he noticed their armament was replete with revolvers holstered akimbo for a cavalry draw and carbines hanging off their saddles. They were nothing if not well armed and even better trained, making the Kings District something of a walled garden indeed. He pulled out his letter of safe passage and unfurled it. As he got just close enough to see their shadowed faces, the one he was closest to snapped his steel tipped shaft down and it stopp
ed just inches short of Naurus’ chest.

  “State your business in the Kings District, young man.” The lancer commanded.

  “Uh...well I have this, I was just going to hand it to you.” He meekly waved the letter that was in his hand.

  The lancer brought his shaft back upright and motioned him to come forward and hand it over. Naurus did and waited in nervous anticipation as the letter was read over. The moments seemed like days but finally the lancer handed the letter back with a faint nod. The man turned his head around and shouted a command at the lancer standing on top of the guardhouse at the parapet. The first portcullis opened with a grating hiss but the second one was still closed. He stood there confused as to how he was to proceed as he still couldn’t get through.

  “Keep moving.” The lancer growled from up on his mount.

  So he did exactly that and moved into the space between the two portcullises. In this space he was surrounded by firing slits and above him an obvious trapdoor was visible. The gate behind him snapped shut, then slowly the iron latticework in front of him made its grating way on up and he quickly made his way out of the claustrophobic trap he was in. Immediately he realized that this was a far more affluent area than the rest of the city, and the well-maintained brick paved streets were so clean you could practically eat off them. The sidewalks were carefully hewn out of the mountain rock and no expense was spared in cleaning those either it seemed. Clearly demarcated cross walks marked with white paint were present at the intersections he saw. Lancers indeed were carefully stationed one per intersection at least, with some patrolling up and down the roads commanding a view and a presence that was simply unknown to those in the lesser parts of the city.

  The paint on the buildings almost seemed to gleam. The architecture that was universally a simulacrum of the popular styles of old with new additions such as brick chimneys and balconies cordoned with ornate balustrades. Dogwood trees split the main drag down the center in a perfectly paved median. Boutique shops and exotic goods outlets abound, with glass panes lining the front of the stores eagerly showing off the wares the likes of which only a few could afford. What appeared to be living quarters were stacked on top of these ground level shops three or four stories high. Transcendents were most of the population in here, and it showed. Their skin and hair was a spectrum of hues from blues and reds to greens and golds. He had never seen so many of them in one place. Naurus felt like a child walking through a confectionary for the first time, gawking so much he almost bumped into a few people, but the soreness in his feet quickly reminded him that it was prudent to find a spot to sit for a spell. It wasn’t long before he laid eyes on a wrought iron bench with wooden slats bolted into the sidewalk ahead of him.

  The bench only had one other occupant; a fit and stately looking man with a dark tan and bald as can be. His attention was completely occupied by the book he was consuming with fervor, hardly noticing Naurus as he plopped down next to him. That is until the wooden slats flexed up under the jolt and jiggled the man with a little more gusto than the newcomer thought would happen. The man shot a dirty look over at his new neighbor, casting a scathing gaze from head to toe, and back to head.

  “You don’t get to the Kings District often, do you?” The man pompously inquired.

  “Well actually—”

  “Oh what am I saying, of course you don’t!” The man snapped his book shut, adjusted his colorful silk blouse, and stormed off.

  Naurus was suddenly irritated, and just imagined for a moment what it would be like if he could kick the living pompous shit out of that guy and then go back in time as if it never happened. But instead he loosened his boots up and drained the rest of his canteen. Dusk was drawing close, but his destination was close at hand. Suddenly the street lanterns all flickered on in almost perfect unison, at least that much luxury was shared with the rest of the city. Naurus took a few moments to look around and catch a breather and he couldn’t help but noticing how gaudy some of the street art was. Every so often along the main drag was a painted statue set into the sidewalk, one in the likeness of a guard standing eternal watch over the street, and yet another being a sculpture of a bench with an elderly man reading a scroll on it. Accentuating this were peony’s hanging in ceramic pots off the street lamps, their budding flowers painstakingly pruned.

  He was out of his element here, but he was just passing through and got up to make his way on up the final stretch to Arx Fatalis. The fortress was impossible to miss, looming upslope and dug well into the side of the dormant volcano that he was slowly but surely ascending. It wasn’t long before he traversed across the Kings District and found the wall that demarcated the beginning of the keep proper. Instead of limestone, it was hewn out of basalt and the parapets above bristled with ballistae and cannons.

  Thirteen slim, square towers rose above all, being linked with small bridges that were connected by high, massive walls made of basalt stone. Simple windows were scattered thinly around the walls in seemingly perfect symmetry, along with symmetric crenellations for large howitzer barrels. A great gate with thick metal doors and a draw bridge were visible on the far side of the portcullis that Naurus could see through. Another pair of Imperial Lancers guarded this gate, but this time he had his letter in hand and ready for review. After another grilling by a face cloaked in shadow, the letter was handed back, and a command barked to an unseen gatekeeper. The portcullis opened and the drawbridge simultaneously lowered.

  A magma channel dug out of the side of the mountain long ago made for a natural dry moat that the drawbridge led him over. As soon as he set foot on the other side, the drawbridge returned to its upright position and he noticed how much more peace and quiet there was here than just back where he was. He found himself in a large garden and arboretum that was dazzling but seemed out of place given the gloomy colors of the rest of the keep. Fruits, vegetables, and herbs grew in the meticulously tended gardens and orchard he was amongst. On the seaward castle battlements to his left were coastal artillery guns of large caliber. The view they commanded over the bay below was impressive but Naurus never knew this sort of armament was even up here.

  The more he looked around, the more he realized he was alone, at least as far as he knew. He felt like someone was present, but simply couldn’t see anyone. He made his way through the neatly aligned paving stones that made a lane through the garden to the main door of the inner keep. The massive, iron framed, hardwood double door he came to had a knurled brass knocker on each side that he could easily fit his head through. He gingerly rapped one of the knockers on the door and waited what felt like a few minutes. Nobody answered the door, so he rapped the knocker much harder, to the point his ears were ringing. Slowly, the doors swung inward and Naurus sucked up his chest and snapped to the sharpest salute he could muster.

  “You summoned me! I am Naurus, at your ser…” He trailed off, realizing he was saluting and talking to absolutely no one.

  He slowly made his way inside and looked around, finding nobody at all but puzzled as to who might have opened the doors. It was rather dark inside and he couldn’t make out much. He decided that this was all a bust and turned around to walk back outside, but the door shut itself with a loud thud and he couldn’t figure out how to get it back open. Is this a joke? Who would do this to me? I knew something was wrong, I shouldn’t have listed to that old man, what a dotard. As these and other less pleasant thoughts raced through his head he suddenly was basked in a warm glow of light. He turned around and realized that he was in the throne hall.

  Huge braziers attached to each of the fourteen marmoreal columns which lit up every part of the throne hall and allowed shadows to dance around where light couldn’t reach. The illustrations of a legendary victory on the arched ceiling danced in the flickering light while statues looked down upon the porcelain floor of this august hall. A cobalt rug trailed down from the throne while rectangular banners with embellished decorations swung gently from the walls. Between each banner sat a tall bras
s candelabra, none but a few were lit and in turn illuminated the paintings of mythical creatures and folk heroes below them.

  Huge, stained glass windows of mesmerizing mosaics were concealed by drapes colored the same cobalt as the banners. The curtains were adorned with gilded linings and embellished borders. A stately throne of teak sat in front of a giant painting of the kingdom and was adjoined by two equally lavish seats for those aiding the royal highness in all affairs. The throne was covered in gilded marks and fixed on each of the broad ears was a gilded demon wing. The thin pillows were tinted cobalt and these too had been adorned with gilded margins. A plethora of decorated maple benches were arrayed in front of the throne, all of which were perfectly aligned in rows. There were also engraved mezzanines flanking the throne.

  Naurus was nothing short of awestruck at the sight of such a place. He had only ever seen drawings and paintings of the throne halls of royalty, but a picture was only ever worth a thousand words, seeing was believing for him. As he slowly walked towards the front of the room towards the throne, he became aware of a presence that was vaguely familiar but sent chills up his spine.

  “I’m glad you came.” Said the same raspy old voice that greeted him in Walsvern Woods.

  Naurus turned around and was faced with the same shrouded man that he saw before, even dressed exactly the same. The lighting in here was indeed better than it was in the woods, but he still couldn’t make out the man’s face from under his rough spun linen hood.

  “Wait…you brought me here? You were at the woods, and you knocked me out with something you said. Why didn’t you just tell me your name?”

  The old man rubbed his hands together as if contemplating. “Yes, I did summon you here. And I did tell you my name. It’s not my fault you simply couldn’t understand it. But if you insist, my name is—”