Kingdom in Distress Page 5
already giving forth the fragrant violet mist by which the man had manifest himself within the hall, just as he had within the gardens of the King's private reserve weeks before. Moments after his still warmly-smiling face had vanished, and the lavender mist had dissipated, a not-dissimilar discharge manifested itself around the edges of the mirror's splendid, mahogany frame. The mirror appeared to become discolored, and the color chasing about its frame to tarnish, in ways that wood would not normally do, not if it were exposed to all the wrath of the natural elements for a thousand years, though doubtless this was simply a false perception through the mists. Then, it too disappeared from sight just as Deveureaux had done, leaving a bare space upon the wall, as though it had never been there.
In a place well hidden, the Magus Deveureaux reappeared in a corner of his holdings that lay deep underground in a cave, known not even to his apprentices, wherein Deveureaux kept few items of great value and importance to him, when his possession of them was a matter of keen interest. This cave was guarded by a wyvern—a fierce, draconic serpent which had dwelt there by natural inclination since time immemorial (dragons being, as dragons still are, attracted to such dark and deep places). Having tamed the creature many years prior, the sorcerer now used him as a formidable and deterring protector of his wealth, not to mention such items of power as the mirror itself whose properties indeed were known to him.
“Clever magician, that you are,” he said, speaking to his own reflection as he gave the mirror an appraising glance, knowing well how to do so without calling upon its prescient abilities. “Thine king is now bereft his most valuable possession and it has passed to your hands in a fashion by which none shall be able to call blame upon you, for the good King did give his word.” He allowed himself a congratulatory smirk; “Daventry prospers; the kingdom will be none the worse off for the lack of that which her neighbors all prosper well enough without.” And with that, he departed by means of his powers of teleportation back to some urgent experiments about which he had not been lying to King Edward, for the only way out of that cave otherwise was by means of an old, abandoned well, lurking where there was no longer home nor village to draw from it. It lay in plain sight, containing water for every thirsty wanderer, thus no one ever suspected the secrets buried beyond the water in the well.
He left the mirror to his dragon's custodianship. The creature, having stirred briefly, soon settled back down into a restful slumber after licking its lips speculatively and scenting the air but it dared not turn upon its master.
King Edward, meanwhile, stood in the middle of his Great Hall, looking suddenly haggard and morose... but then, as he turned to retake his throne, he saw again his beautiful wife, Katherine. The Queen favored him with a smile, and King Edward felt some of his earlier sporting nature restored. “Music!” He cried out, “And dance! Come, let us eat, and drink, and be merry; indeed, without the marvelous mirror, our Kingdom will be somewhat pressed but is this not how we lived for all our lives, before the mirror came into our possession? Come! This is no funeral, this is a celebration of life; and with new life, there is always hope for the future!”
Futureless Kingdom
There was some scattered applause throughout the Great Hall... but while the King and Queen's joy, as well as the surety of their family's good fortune meant a great deal to the people who had so assuredly prospered under King Edward's rule, the remainder of the celebrations were muted and somber—a fact that only Edward himself seemed unable, or perhaps unwilling to recognize. The members of the royal court knew full well where much of the prosperity of recent years had come from, and the loss of the magical mirror seemed to foretell the potential for future disaster. Queen Katherine herself did her best to maintain a more jovial mood, but soon found need of removing herself, and begged leave of the celebrations to rest. This happened after midnight, at some point during the very early morning hours where nobody quite noticed when it was that she had departed, save for her personal midwife, and her first Lady in Waiting, both of which had disappeared with her.
It was four in the morning, an unsavory hour according to Daventry tradition, during which time those who were unfortunate enough to stay awake were bound by custom to remain so throughout the rest of the hour, and to be on their guard for wickedness and malevolent intention, lest they risk falling prey to ill fortunes that would last for a year and a day. Revelries which made it to that unseemly hour were cautioned to come to an end or else such influences would, it was believed, be drawn to the prospect of general gaiety and merrymaking. Not everyone adhered to such beliefs by this point in time; it was merely a matter of tradition, one that was observed almost without thinking, so the party in the Great Hall was indeed winding down and most of the worthy guests were thanking the King for the good food and good company.
Edward himself was standing in conversation with his advisers, including Master Falkreath the alchemist, as well as the royal physician, his personal scribe, and the High Marshal of Daventry's modest military force. There were concerns about the mirror's loss and even the proposal that an effort be mounted at once to retrieve it, of which Edward however, would not hear. “I did give my word,” he said simply, “and the conception did occur, as was promised us. The throne is secure and as for the welfare of the kingdom, we have done remarkably well and have had many benefits from the mirror's use, some of which will undoubtedly last for generations even without it being here to provide us with additional boons, none of which our neighbors ever benefit from the likes thereof,” he added. “Surely, you would not consider risking the wrath of so powerful a thing as that sorcerer, however treacherous were his intentions, by seeking him out and attacking him in his own dark lair?”
“Evidently not,” replied the white-haired High Marshal, a steely-eyed old veteran, wryly, “particularly in view of the fact that he would now most assuredly know we were coming.”
“And when,” the physician chimed in, to a sour look from Edward.
“Gentlemen... you have followed me thus far. You followed my lead, High Marshal, before I understood truly just how the mirror worked, when we benefited not from its guidance. Trust me now. All shall be…”
The King's words were arrested by a sudden scream, a cry of horror and suffering which echoed its way down to the Great Hall, bouncing off of the castle's stone walls and echoing horribly as it continued, long and choking and terrible... the King felt the blood run cold in his veins as he was able to determine its source: the screaming was coming from the royal apartments, up the steps where the Queen had retired with her servants some hours before.
“By all that is... where...” Falkreath was taken aback by the suddenness of the piercing cries, but the King grabbed him by the arm, and also seized the royal physician by his shoulder.
“Gentlemen—to the Queen” Ash-gray and breathless with fear, the King charged up the circular staircase that led up the tower in which the royal chambers were housed. Though not summoned himself, the High Marshal accompanied them.
At the top of the tower, the four men found the door to the royal chambers open. They made entry into the room, only to see the Queen lying in the royal couple's bed, her fine clothes stained thickly with blood, as were the bedclothes beneath them. The Lady in Waiting had fainted by the side of the bed and the midwife, an elderly woman named Entessa, who was known for being possessed of remarkable fortitude, was bathing the Queen's forehead with a damp cloth. Her eyes were filled with sadness, as she looked up to spy the King's entrance... “Oh,” she sobbed, her face twisted into a mask of grief. “Your Majesty...”
“Good woman, what has happened here?” The King's face was now as white as bone as he gazed upon the still and barely breathing body of his beloved wife. “My Katherine... is she..?”
“She lives, Majesty, though I know not for how long; after we lay her upon the bed to rest, she gave an evil groan, and collapsed. It was then that we saw the bleeding...”
“It... It was...” The lady in waiting was recovering fro
m her faint; the High Marshal rushed to her side, and helped her back to her feet, for which she smiled warmly at him. “It was... awful...”
“I know not what malady it is which has seized her,” the midwife continued, tears streaming down her wise and aged face. “But, with the quantity of the blood, I fear... Your, your Majesty, I...”
The royal physician, by this time had made his way to the side of the bed and was examining the Queen's person with care; even in such a state after all, her royal modesty was important. He tenderly and with the King's nodded consent—for Edward did no longer trust himself to speak, so shaken was he, examined the Queen's womanhood and with a grieving sadness he turned his own sorrowful countenance upon the King.
“Majesty... your child, I fear... whatever this malady, an examination of which would require more time...” His face was pale and drawn, and there was much sorrow in his voice. “Your child has not survived its onset and your wife, alas, that such sorrows should befall your noble name!” The physician bowed his head in respect. “She... may not be able to bear again, forthwith, as the sickness appears to have affected such parts as