NOTE! This is an ongoing story. If this is your first visit, please read the About This Page link, and then use the Table of Contents links to go the first chapter.
Everyone was already seated when Sam and Bob entered the room and took their seats.
“And just what have you two been up to?” Lilly asked with a bawdy wink.
“Bob was wrapping up a project in his lab,” Sam explained, a bit hastily. “A new weapon, stink bombs.”
“Uh huh,” Tink said while rolling her eyes, “That sounds plausible.”
Sam began to retort, but the King interrupted by loudly clearing his throat.
“May I introduce the Royal Historian, Humphrey.”
The King gestured to an impossibly old man slumped in his chair at the far end of the table. His head was bowed and his bearded chin rested on his chest. His long, white hair cascaded over his face, concealing his features. The hair fluttered with each breath. He gave no indication that he had heard the King.
“Historian Humphrey?” prompted the King again.
The old man responded with a rattling snore.
“Humphrey!” bellowed the King.
The old man’s head snapped upright, arms flailing wildly.
“Quills down!” he shouted. “Pass your scrolls to the front of the class!”
He glared around the room at the crowd that was staring at him in bemusement.
“Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.
The King stood to get Humphrey’s attention. “I asked you here to provide us with information regarding my son’s military education.”
Humphrey peered over his tiny spectacles at the King.
“Your son?”
“Yes, my son,” the King answered, irritated. “Don. The Prince?”
“Oh yes,” Humphrey nodded. “Such a good lad. Very high spirits, of course, but that’s to be expected. A very good pupil, one of my favorites.”
“I banished him,” the King said flatly.
“Oh, thank the Gods,” Humphrey said, shoulders sagging in relief. “I’ve spent the past five years begging the Reaper to take me before that little shit ascended to the throne.”
“He was that bad?” asked the King. “Why didn’t you inform me?”
“It isn’t wise to speak negatively about the King’s son,” Humphrey answered. “Especially when the little brat will eventually get the crown, and more importantly, you still have to see him every day. Little bugger would have come in to his next lesson with a plan of vengeance, I can assure you.”
“Excuse me for interrupting,” Charles said, “what can you tell us about Prince Don’s education in military history and tactics?”
“The usual stuff: how the Kingdom was founded; what battles were fought and how; when and where they took place. He never paid much attention to those lessons, though. They didn’t interest him in the slightest.”
“What did interest him, then?” King Ronald asked, frowning.
“Chambermaids, mostly,” Humphrey said. “That, and provoking small animals. He found a great deal of pleasure in provoking the chambermaids using the small animals.”
“What interested him militarily?” Charles clarified.
“Oh, that. He would look at the maps and histories and battle details and declare that both leaders were stupid. He was rather gifted at analyzing the battles and forming a new strategy for either side that would change the outcome. I saw no flaw in his reasoning, but I am not a military strategist.”
“So, he’s a good at strategy, but has no field experience,” Charles mused. “Maybe I can use that.”
“You need anything else?” Humphrey asked, his chin already falling back onto his chest.
“No. Thank you for your kind assistance, Historian.” The King said. “We may again call on your knowledge as we formulate a battle plan.”
Humphrey responded with a loud snore.
“Magician,” Charles began, turning to face Bob. “What kind of foe do we have in the former Court Magician?”
“Greedy and unscrupulous,” Bob stated simply. “He has absolutely no qualms whatsoever in doing whatever it takes to further his own agenda, no matter the consequences to those around him. His magical abilities are strong, but hampered by his unreasonable temper. It causes him to act in haste. Fortunately, I discovered long ago that when he gets in that state, he stammers. There is nothing in the magical world more difficult than correctly repeating the words of a spell in an arcane language while stammering.”
“Great,” Tink said, “so all we have to do is piss him off and he cant do shit. What pisses him off the most?”
“Anyone that does something better than him,” Bob answered the elf. “He is quite arrogant, and thinks that he is superior to almost everyone. Proving otherwise unhinges him.”
“I’m not sure how we could use that on the battlefield, Bob.” Sam observed.
“There is one other way to limit his effectiveness,” Bob continued slowly, “but it is even less likely to be used in a battle situation.”
“And that other method is?” Sam prompted.
“Rejection. Any kind of rejection, but most significantly by a woman.” Bob explained. “While we were attending school, a pretty young witch struck his fancy. Norman tried everything to woo her, ignoring her polite refusals for months. She finally got tired of being polite, and blew up at him. Unfortunately, this happened on the grounds in front of all of his peers. She told she wasn’t interested, she wasn’t attracted to him at all, and that his personality repulsed her.”
“What did he do?” Sam asked.
“He cursed the poor girl, using a very devious curse. He is cruel, but intelligent. The girl in question was a beautiful soul, as evidenced by the fact that it took months for her to get tired of his daily attentions. Normans curse was tied to those qualities in her that were good and virtuous. Any time she showed the smallest of kindnesses, any time she thought of others more than herself, she grew physically more repulsive. She was such a pure soul that she was unable to resist her impulses to do good things, and she became truly hideous in a very short time.”
“That poor girl!” Tink cried. “What happened to her?”
“After many months of study and experimentation, a solution was found. The original spell could not be broken, but it could be modified. The curse remained, but now her physical beauty was reflected directly by her actions. If she was kind, and good, which of course was in her nature, she shone brighter than the noon sun. If she was petty and cruel, she became less so. She now lives with a good man who is able to understand and accept the nature of her curse, and doesn’t mind the fact that she gets repulsive on bad days.”
“Well, I guess that’s better than no cure at all,” Tink admitted grudgingly, not entirely satisfied with the ending of the story.
“It was truly a blessing for her,” Bob said sadly, “though she does not see it that way.”
“You knew her?” Sam asked.
“Indeed I did,” Bob answered with a slight smile in her direction. “It was I who was able to modify the curse. Working so closely with her for that amount of time, when she had been shunned by all those around her, caused her to develop certain feelings for me. Feelings, I am afraid, I could not return. At the time, I felt that my life needed to take a path that precluded a serious relationship. She felt, incorrectly, that my rejection of her was the reason I ‘chose’ to modify the spell, rather than remove it. As she got closer to the man who would become her husband, he asked me to leave. As I had recently finished my schooling, I agreed.”
“Why would he ask you to leave?” Tink asked.
“Apparently, if the girl sees me or thinks about me, her mood turns sour. I have already explained the consequences of that. But enough of my tale, we have gone decidedly off course. I recommend that we continue our discussion of the crisis at hand.”
“Agreed,” Charles stated. “What we need to know, Magician, is whether or not you can defend against his magical attacks. No offense intended, but we need an honest and realistic appraisal of your abilities versus his.”
“I believe I will be able to counter most of his spells,” Bob answered. “I was the top student at the Academy we both attended, scoring higher marks than Norman in every class. My skills will be tasked, of that I have no doubt. I feel that my attention will need to be focused on him, and as such, if my assistance is needed in any other arena, Norman will have to be neutralized first.”
“I hope that we can form an army of sufficient size that your assistance will not be necessary,” Charles stated.
“Perhaps I should begin preparing an army of the Undead?”
“I would rather not show that hand to our enemy, or the populace, unless necessary. The King said. “I don’t feel that my subjects will be able to accept that on top of all of the many other surprises. We are still a very suspicious people, and we may alienate our own source of troops. However, you should be prepared to utilize that skill, if required.”
Bob nodded in agreement. “I will need to know the location of the closest burial ground, preferably one that has a large number of fallen soldiers and warriors.”
“The Kingdom has set aside a special cemetery for fallen warriors,” Ronald informed him. “The Historian can show you where it is located.”
Humphrey continued to snore loudly.
“Humphrey?” the king prompted, attempting to wake the old man. “HUMPHREY!”
“No talking during exams!” Humphrey exploded with a jump.
“Show the magician the location of Warriors Hollow, if you would.”
“Ahh, it is good to see the younger generation showing their respect to our fallen heroes.” Humphrey nodded in appreciation.
“He might have to raise them,” Ronald told him flatly.
“Oh,” said the old man, looking confused. “Why the hell do you want to dig up a bunch of decades old corpses? That’s disgusting.”
“In order to bring them back to life to defend the Kingdom,” Bob explained.
“That’s even more disgusting,” Humphrey announced. “But, hey, whatever you want.”
“The proclamation is tomorrow,” Ronald told the group. “We should all retire and get a good nights rest. It may be the last chance we have to do so in quite some time.”
With a chorus of nods, the group broke up and departed for their rooms.
