The occasion was informal, old friends who trusted and respected one another, just socializing, and enjoying the return of their Liege Lord. These were the three men who had shaped Lord Ellrich’s ideals and raised him after his father had passed away many years ago. His title meant little in their company; they were like family, and none of them would hesitate to speak their mind. All three of them were pleased to get to enjoy Rosila’s feast. It was rare that she let them share the Lord’s table.
Not much was said while they were eating. Roasted game hens, and sliced pork, drenched in gravy, seemed to keep their fingers and mouths busy enough. Fresh baked loaves of bread, heavily buttered, sweet jellies, and a mix of green vegetables, weren’t ignored either. The best cask of red in the cellar had been brought up, and Rosila and her daughter kept the goblets full. Dessert was sugared moss cakes, with candied gar root, a swamp land delicacy that was as rare as snowfall to the men. They ate their fill of all of it.
The conversation stayed light, until Lord Ellrich, who was sweating profusely, and bloated like a boar hog, had a pair of candelabras brought out so that the torches might be extinguished. After wiping the grease and sweet jam from his hands, he belched loudly, and then touched on the subject of King Glendar’s campaign against the east. He was buzzed from the wine and had a green smear of icing from the moss cake on his cheek. His manner and tone were almost comical.
“You think this war is a winnable thing?” he asked the table.
“Why that Highwander Witch would set such a thing off at Summer’s Day, I cannot imagine,” Captain Layson offered.
“I heard it was a Seaward bastard who started the blood flowing, after Lord Gregory killed their fighter,” Sir William said.
The mention of the Lion Lord caused a long moment of head shaking reverie as they all thought about the much loved, and greatly missed Lord of Lake Bottom.
“He was a fine man,” Lord Ellrich slurred. He raised his flagon up in toast. “To a fair and noble warrior, who will be sorely missed.”
“Aye, he was that,” Sir William added.
“Here, here,” the others agreed.
“They say ol’ King Jarrek is already holed up in that castle fortress of his, like a scared rabbit.” Sir William changed the subject before the loss of Lord Gregory ruined the mood of the evening completely.
“Those Redwolves like to snarl and bark a lot, but when it comes time to really fight, what do they do, but run like curs.”
This came from Captain Munst, who was obviously the least intoxicated of them. He had only been sipping at his goblet while the other men had been drinking deeply. He had three daughters, and an anxious wife at home. With the loss of manpower along the riverfront, he was sure that he wouldn’t get another chance like this for a good long while. Always traveling from outpost to outpost limited his time here. He had the chance this night to go and see them, and he wasn’t about to come home to them in a drunken stupor.
“If they had policed the festival like they were supposed to,” Munst continued, “then none of this would’ve happened. They brought it upon themselves.”
“THAT FOOL’S PUPPET GLENDAR!” Lord Ellrich roared out quite loudly.
Only here in his home, with these men whom he trusted completely, would he speak what was truly on his mind.
“He and Lord Brach would’ve found a reason to go after Wildermont sooner or later. They’ve been scheming on it since long before King Balton died.”
“Another great man who will be sorely missed,” said Captain Munst, hoping to detour his Liege Lord’s treasonous line of thought, before it went too far. “To good King Balton,” he toasted. “May he lie with the gods for all eternity.”
“Agreed,” the others chimed in, getting the drift of Captain Munst’s intention.
None of them wanted to find out what their fate would be if Lord Ellrich got his head spiked for being treasonous against the new king. They had all heard the rumors about how the bailey yards, and the garden gates of Lakeside Castle were sporting the heads of those who so much as irritated young Glendar. It was also said that Lord Brach had spies everywhere. Between the resourceful Northern Lord, and the King’s strange wizard, Captain Munst feared that Glendar’s ears might be privy to the words Lord Ellrich spoke, even here in his own stronghold.
Sir William started to speak, but the wooden fireplace cover fell flat onto the stone floor with a sudden and resounding, WHACK!
Lord Ellrich didn’t seem to notice, but Captain Layson and Sir William both snapped their heads around, instinctually alarmed by the sound.
Captain Munst, who was at the foot of the table, and had his back to the hearth, chose to gauge the reaction of the others, instead of twisting in his chair. Only when Captain Layson’s brows narrowed over squinting, quizzical eyes, and when he stood and strode towards the sound, did Captain Munst’s curiosity get the better of him.
“What caused that?” he asked, as he made to join Captain Layson’s investigation.
Lord Ellrich noticed them, and became only mildly concerned.
“Probably the wind,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Leave it be.”
“What in the name of -?” Captain Layson’s voice was cut short, as he leapt back from a cloud of soot that erupted suddenly from the back of the stone recess.
“It’s a fargin Widow Worm!” Captain Munst yelled, when he saw the venomous marsh lizard.
It was as long as his leg, covered in grey ash, and it was already streaking across the floor. It leapt sideways into Captain Munst’s empty chair, paused for half a heartbeat, then jumped onto the foot of the table, and shot full speed across it towards Lord Ellrich’s wide eyed jiggling head.
As if he were the only man in the room, the determined thing came at the oversized Lord of Settsted. Its claws and teeth were about to find flesh, but Sir William brought his dagger down, and pinned the Widow Worm through its back to the wooden table. Its vicious, toothy maw snapped shut only a hair’s breadth from Lord Ellrich’s face. It lurched and scrabbled in place, its claws seeking purchase on the well used, but polished surface of the table board. It snapped, writhed, and twisted, still trying to get at the huge man, as if it had no other purpose than to sink its teeth into him. Its tail whipped around, and sent the remainder of a serving platter clattering to the floor, and managed to knock over the candelabra; but its thrashing was in vain. The old Weapon Master’s dagger held it fast.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The sound of someone beating heavily on the wooden door startled them all.
Sir William doused the overturned candles with what was left of his drink. Rosila came barging into the hall from the kitchen to see what the racket was about, saw the lizard flopping on the table, and screamed loudly. Her daughter, who had come in on her heels, fainted at the sight of the bloody thing.
Thump! Thump! Thump! at the door again.
This time, Captain Layson went to answer it. On his way, he attempted to bat the ash from his shirt, but only manage to smear it across the front.
“Kill it!” Lord Ellrich commanded as he raised his bulk from his seat.
The Widow Worm was still straining and snapping at him. He stumbled drunkenly backward and nearly fell over his chair. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the insistent swamp creature, or Rosila’s ear piercing shriek.
Sir William was still coherent enough to keep from pulling his dagger out of the writhing thing to stab it again. It wanted to get at his Lord too badly. Instead, he grabbed his empty goblet, and began pounding the creatures head. Blood, and pieces of wet goo-covered scales flew everywhere.
Rosila backed away, and fell backwards over her daughter. Captain Munst made an alert move, and managed to catch her before she went all the way down, but her screaming continued in loud, hysterical bursts. Sir William hammered away at the creature as Captain Layson opened the door, and let in a terrified looking, sweat-covered young soldier.
“Enough!” yelled Lord Ellrich.
Captain Munst recognized the boy and immediately began trying to ease Rosila’s ample body into his empty chair. This couldn’t be good news.
Sir William hadn’t heard his Lord, and was still pounding the lizard into the table. Its body was twitching now, and its hiss had become a gurgling, spewing sound.
