While waiting for the ‘prince’ to decide what to do about the death of Lady Halfrid and the absence of anyone to take over, Sekhet continues managing Orthanc, formerly known as Brugh Melton. I put ‘prince’ in quotes, by the way, because he’s just a cleric who’s taken over control of the Weald in the absence of anyone of proven lineage. He’s declared himself prince regent.
At Orthanc, Sekhet and Gallick go about the process of making the area livable again. The Fomorians salted the earth and made it impossible for anything to grow, and we’re trying to undo that damage. In the evenings, Sekhet has dinner with the Oracle. She’s a 3,000 year old Medusa, apparently cursed to live forever in the tower of Orthanc, providing oracular visions for whoever owns the tower. I have the romantic notion that she might be freed from her bondage, but she’s indicated that this would result in her become a more typical (i.e. evil) medusa.
Sekhet doesn’t want to believe that and eats a nice meal with her every evening, asking her questions about the history of the area, the Formorian wars. She’s forthcoming about the history, but I learn very little about her. I’m patient though.
One day, as Gallick and I are trying to fertilize the soil, a group of elves show up.
Gallick and I see them on their horses at the edge of the clearing. We’re sweaty, covered in dirt, shirts off. . .no arms, no armor. The elves stay a respectful distance away. Who knows how long they’d been there before we noticed them.
“Hail, fair folk!” I call out. They approach.
“Greetings to the lord of. . .Orthanc?” the lead elf offers, unsure.
“You have an excellent memory,” I reply. The elves are now a few yards away. They survey the land.
“You are trying to restore the land,” the lead elf comments.
I nod. “It’s hard work, but rewarding.”
“Our people abandoned this place. Nothing would grow.”
This is another statement, not a question. “My people have advanced knowledge of planting techniques, agriculture. Things will grow again.”
We stand there, looking at each other for a few moments. Nobody says anything.
“We have come for the Oracle,” the elf says. I understand them, they don’t want to talk to the oracle, they want to kill her.
I nod again, as though this was not unexpected. “Gallick,” I say, turning to my squire, “go inside. Arm yourself. Prepare my things.” Gallick obediently turns and walks inside the tower. I turn back and address the elves.
“The Oracle is my charge. I gave my word to keep her safe in this tower.”
“She is dangerous.”
“To whom?” I ask.
The elves look to each other, uncertain. They clearly outnumber me, but I don’t show fear. Perhaps I’m more than I seem.
“The Oracle is a power greater than you know. Humans are unfamiliar with the uses of power.”
“The humans from this Isle are indeed primitive. But I am not from this land. My people learned the uses of power long ago and build a kingdom greater than anything this verdant land has seen. The Oracle presents no danger to me. I am different than the humans you’re used to dealing with.”
At this point, Kephara, my copper dragon, flies down and lands on the ground next to me. I absently toss him a piece of sulfur. He used to like mice, but now his acid breath is coming along nicely and he likes snacks with a little more kick. He wags his tail and stretches his head up for pettings, which I indulge.
The elves take note of the tiny dragon. It’s worth noting that I recovered this dragon from an abandoned Elven hatchery. “We can see that. Very well, we will leave you, for now.”
Sekhet is filled with a kind of honest sarcasm. He openly and generously offers aid and support to exactly those people he’s sure will refuse it. To embarrass them. Of course, he also offers the same aid to anyone who needs it or asks, but in this situation, it’s his honest sarcasm streak that motivates him.
“There is no hurry,” Sekhet says, and Kephara belches and acid dribbles down his chin. “Please, be my guest. Stay for the evening.”
Of course, the elves refuse. They’ve just tried to bully me and I’m being polite to them. They hate this.
I go back inside and tell Gallick what happened. He’s happy there was no battle, but he’s suited up and has my Greatsword waiting for me. Good lad. We go back to work.
That evening, over dinner, I tell the Oracle what happened.
“I know,” she says, eating her basted venison.
“Then you know that I rebuked them,” I reply. I can see only her outline behind the screen I’ve erected between us. To protect myself from her gaze.
“You were very diplomatic,” she responds neutrally.
Sekhet continues eating. “How is the venison?”
“It is excellent,” she replies. “I notice that you are not having any.”
“No,” I reply.
“You never eat red meat,” she observes.
“Or fish, or fowl. My people revere all life. I am a strict vegetarian.”
The Oracle drinks some wine, which I also do not share in.
“And your people do not drink?”
“No,” I say, taking a deep breath, “my people drink often and regularly. Our wines were exported to many nations. I am a Mektah of the Aman-Re. My order does not drink.”
The Oracle doesn’t say anything. I expect her to comment on the fact that I am the last of my order. She does not. A few minutes of silence pass.
“It occurs to me that you have no window. No way of seeing the world outside. I should have a window put in. You should see the sunset and the sunrise and the beautiful emerald of the trees.”
The Oracle shakes her head. “I could not look upon the world outside. Birds would fall as stones from the sky.”
“I had considered that. I’m researching a method to screen the window using magical means, to allow you to look out without harming the wildlife. A bird could land on your window and be as safe from you as it would be from me.”
The Oracle puts down her fork. “Why do you treat me so well?”
Uncharacteristically, I avoid the question. “Does my attention offend you?”
“No,” the Oracle says. “But you do not know me. You believe I am something other than what I am. I am dangerous. Were I free, I would likely kill you and everyone you know.”
“I know you think that, but I don’t believe you.”
“Why!?” She demands. It’s more emotion than I’ve seen from her in the months I’ve been here.
I’ve finished my dinner. I clean up my plate and get up from the table. “You’re an Oracle. You see the truth. You’ve been in this tower for 3,000 years seeing the truth. I am a simple man. I believe that goodness and truth are the same thing. I know what you were, before you became the Oracle. But I do not believe any creature, however vile, could see truth for 3,000 years and not be affected by it.” I pause. I can see she’s looking up at me, though I can’t see her face or it’s expression. “I’ll come back for your plate when you’re done.”
And I leave.
Meanwhile, in Hoddenhill, the manor house of the Lady Halfrid is mostly empty, no-one lives there now. In the absence of any clear leader, the townsfolk come to Harn, cleric of Thor to resolve disputes. He quickly gets tired of this. He is their spiritual leader, not their regent. After a few days a company riding under the regent’s device ride into town. Harn greets them and has them put up in the manor house. They’re surprised that no one’s in charge.
“Where is the Atlantean? It was our understanding that Lady Halfrid left him in charge,” Armagil, the lead knight, says to Harn.
Harn is suspicious of these men, of anyone, really, who works for the prince regent. “Halfrid left no-one in charge. She did not plan to die,” Harn replies pointedly.
“But the Atlantean was her knight?” Armagil asks.
“His name is Sekhet,” Harn replies. “And he has his own province to govern. Aman Sul, to the north, where the tower Orthanc stands.”
Armagil understands. “Get him. Bring him here. Tell him he’s needed.”
Harn doesn’t like this guy, but he sends for me.
Two days pass, and I arrive back in Hoddenhill. Gallick and Kephara are with me. I send Gallick to stay with his uncle and aunt while I’m in town. They’ll be glad to see him. I go to the church and meet with Harn.
“Harn, my brother,” I reply, giving Harn a hug. “How are things?”
Harn and I begin walking along the dirt road to the manor house on the hill. “Badly. The people lack direction. They need a leader. Someone to motivate them. They look to me.”
“You are their spiritual leader, it is natural for them to look to you for guidance. You would make a fine leader.”
“I gave them my guidance and they ignored it. I told them to back you and they refused.”
“To back us,” I correct him. “I could not rule here, these people, in a land foreign to my birth without your help. And Anya’s, loathe though I am to admit it. Does she still have the harp?”
“She does. And she still plays it, and it still hypnotizes anyone who hears the music. But apart from that, she doesn’t seem to be scheming or plotting. Whatever the harp is supposed to do, it’s not doing it right now.”
Looking to the north, I see the finished keep that Glim and Ogsbod were working on. “I see the keep is finished.”
Our feet squelch through the dun colored mud. “It is. The outside at least. It looks well built.”
“It looks like a monstrosity,” I comment, “but Ogsbod knows things about stonemasonry that are both sound and alien to me.”
“The giants are gifted stonemasons. Their buildings last. They can withstand mighty assaults, mightier than anything we humans can throw at it.”
“Let’s hope Ogsbod’s work need never be tested in that regard.”
We enter the manor house. I am introduced to the knights and their scribes. We talk. They tell me they’re from the prince and they’ve come to ‘evaluate the situation.’ I describe the situation to them. I mention that there is a local noblewoman with a grandson. The knight has us send for the grandson, which we do. We get Anya and send her.
A day passes.
The grandmother and her grandson show up. She has papers describing her family’s lineage. The scribes begin looking it over. As they do, I talk to the knight. The knight is in service to the prince regent, but doesn’t really work for him. The scribes work for the prince and the knights were sent basically to guard them. The scribes, pouring over the noblewoman’s papers, get momentarily excited by something, then try to cover it up.
“Oh my,” Anya says quietly.
“What?” I ask as I try to puzzle out what the scribes were excited by.
“I just realized something,” Anya says.
“Yes?”
“There’s wording in those papers I didn’t understand when I read them. Now I do. I think the grandson is the bastard son of the old king.”
“You are shitting me,” I reply.
“You’re saying that kid could be the rightful king?” Harn asks.
“Well, I’m not 100% certain,” Anya replies. “I didn’t think of it until I saw those scribes freak out. Why are they trying to cover it up?”
“They don’t want us to know they know. They probably hope we don’t know. If the boy could be king, then he stands between the prince regent and control of the Weald. If we don’t know, if no-one knows, then the prince can off the kid and make it look like an accident.”
“Glim,” I say.
“Aye,” the dwarf replied. We’re all together even though not all of us have dialog.
“Glim I need you to get that kid to safety.”
“Aye,” he replies. “I understand.” He starts leading the kid out.
“Where are you taking the child?” the knight asks.
“It’s a call of nature,” the dwarf says. “He’ll be right back.” They leave.
Glim takes the kid to Ogsbod. “Ooh, a giant!” the kid says. “I’ve got a cow!” Ogsbod says, showing off his pet.
Meanwhile, after preparing to have to kill the knight and the scribes, it becomes clear to me that the scribes are keeping what they suspect, not only from us, but from the knights as well. Hmmm…
I invite the knight to dinner. We eat. I feel him out. He’s clearly not pro-prince William. I decide I cannot be dishonest with a fellow knight, and tell him about the boy and his lineage. The knight doesn’t react, he just says “It will be good for the Weald to have a king again, even if it is a boy.” We come to an understanding. The knight won’t move against the boy. We can trust him.
The next day, he and the scribes leave. I go back to Orthanc.
A few days later, I’m summoned back. I ride back and Harn tells me there’s some toady of the prince’s at the manor house, waiting for me with a message from the prince. I go to see the guy. He’s undressed, in his room. I knock at the door. He tries to greet me. He’s a flunky, I basically ignore him, demanding to see his missive from the prince. He’s flustered but he gives me the message. I tell him to enjoy the ride back to Dun Hammil.
I take the missive back to the group, and read it. It’s a declaration from the prince, he recognizes that the boy’s lineage gives him the right to govern Hoddenhill and that I should act as regent while he comes of age.
Very clever. By putting the boy in charge of Hoddenhill, the prince puts the boy in harm’s way. Trying to bring order to the area cost Lady Halfrid her life. But he doesn’t say anything about the boy’s real claim. And we don’t dare try and put him on the throne now, since we can’t oppose the prince without greater force of arms.
So now Sekhet is in charge of Hoddenhill. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
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