Jester

Aedric, son of the slain Faesidhe King, held a grudge against Duke Dullerm -- can he overcome his desire for revenge?

Part 2:  Tournament

 

 

14.

Jester

 

 

 

 

 

The streets of King’s Reach were bustling with a multitude of people from all over Northmarch, much to Aedric’s annoyance.   All because the ageless, widowed Queen was officially ending her two years of mourning after her Barons hounded her to either marry or name an heir.

 

Now thousands of loyal subjects as well as the most dashing unmarried nobility and royalty from seemingly all over the world were descending on King’s Reach for Her  Majesty’s Grand Tournament; a week-long festival of knightly skills, merry-making and positioning for status in the Elven Queen’s eyes.

 

It was all a bunch of rubbish to Aedric, and if he was not expecting to be knighted during the festivities, he would have avoided the whole affair.

But Duke Dullerm expected his knight recruits to attend, and he certainly couldn’t disobey the grey-skinned mixed blood devil.   It was humiliating, having to grovel to the Duke and, even worse, his Dark Elf wife.   Everyone marveled at Duchess Aurei, for she, like the Queen, remained ageless and extraordinarily beautiful, but when looking upon her, Aedric just saw the face of the enemy.

 

He had been a young boy when his father’s people - the mighty Faesidhe of the Western Forest- had followed their King’s urging and attacked the duchy of Westmark.   But instead of eradicating the cursed lot of black skinned demons, they had only managed to kill Dullerm’s oldest daughter, as well as the Royal princess who was visiting her friend - unbeknownst to the Faesidhe.

 

So the wrath of Westmark and indeed, all of Northmarch fell fiercely upon the Faesidhe.   Led by Duke Dullerm himself, his red eyes burned like the fires of hell as he slashed his way through their forces to avenge the death of his eldest child, as the ducal and royal armies massacred the valiant Faesidhe defenders.  

It was burnt clear into his mind; his father, the King of the Faesidhe, standing in a circle, nobly guarding the Clearing of the Ages with his elite knights and wizards, while the Queen and the royal concubines - which included his Sylvan Elf mother-  stood in a tight knot, terrified and weeping as they clutched the younger royal children.

 

He could see his father and his four half-brothers leading their knights desperately in a charge against the forces of the grey skinned devil.  

He saw the fiend’s great holy sword flashing in the dimness of the Clearing and heard the terrible roar of rage from his mouth as he charged unharmed through arcane fire and lightning to get to them.

With three swings, the Duke had killed all four of Aedric’s half-brothers, and he could still hear the Queen’s banshee like wail as they fell to him.

 

His father had struck mightily at the half-Drow, but Duke Dullerm countered every blow.  The Duke’s men took down their elite knights as if they were children with wooden swords.

 

He could feel his rage and terror as Dullerm’s holy sword cut through the golden armor of the King’s legs, sending him falling to the ground.   He had not surrendered, and had fought even from his prone position.

Aedric could feel his mother’s arms tighten around him protectively as the Duke’s sword cut through his father’s arms.  

He could remember his father’s death as if it had happened moments before.   The half-Drow’s armored foot kicked his father’s head backwards, exposing his neck.  

“FOR LEAH!”  He had filled the clearing with his booming voice as he swung his great sword down, decapitating the head of his father with such force that the sword had embedded into the soil nearly to the hilt.

 

He could see his father’s head roll around in his golden helm and the blood sputter from his neck like a slaughtered chicken.  Somehow in his rage, he had torn free from his mother and with a howl like a savage wolf he had launched himself against the murderer.

He had nearly reached him when Dullerm had grabbed him by his neck and slammed him to the ground so hard that the air was knocked from his lungs.   He heard his mother scream as he found himself looking into a rage that matched his, in the half-Drow’s fiendish eyes.  

At that moment he knew he would soon be joining his father and brothers in death.

 

Dullerm had produced a dagger from his belt and had raised it to take the life of the last son of the Faesidhe King when out of nowhere, the black lady in her Dark Elven armor had appeared and grabbed the wrist of the hand prepared to slay him.

“ELEAZAR, NO!” She had screamed to her husband, “NO!!  HE’S A CHILD!   HE’S A CHILD, LIKE LEAH!  INNOCENT!   THOSE RESPONSIBLE HAVE PAID!   LET HIM GO!”

 

The Duke had looked at her wild-eyed for a moment, and then with a howl of pain, flung his dagger a hundred feet across the clearing, where it embedded to its hilt into the Great Tree.   He had wept hotly, clutching his Drow wife who joined him in her anguish, while their knights pulled Aedric to his feet and brought him back to his mother.

 

The memory iced up his heart to any kindness Dullerm or his wife had shown to him and his mother afterwards.   They had let all four of his half-sisters live, as well as the Queen and the concubines.   But foolishly, Queen Lielliann had tried, two days later, to assassinate the Duke and Duchess with a long poisoned needle.   It had been Duchess Dullerm who had killed Lielliann with her wicked Drow long sword, along with two of the concubines who assisted her.  

 

His mother, however, was not a proud Faesidhe woman, but a Wood Elf Princess, and she had her people’s strong love of life.   She had meekly obeyed the Duke and Duchess’ requests, and as a result, she was treated extremely well.   She had been allowed to live in the concubine quarters of the palace with more freedom than she had while living as one of the King’s concubines.

 

Of course, they had not just allowed him to go free, as he was the only remaining son of the Faesidhe King.

 

Instead, he had been forced to live as a foster child of the Stewards of Dullerm; a pair of half-Elf Paladins and their children.   Thankfully, Aeric and Alis had treated him well.  His mother had died half a year later due to a hiding Faesidhe wizard who had tried to start an uprising in the Clearing of the Ages.  The wizard accidentally killed twelve Elven women (including his mother) when he dropped a bottle containing an imprisoned Air elemental, releasing the angry creature, which killed anyone near him.   The wizard had died trying to contain the elemental and that had been the last serious attempt at rebellion by the Faesidhe.

 

Aeric and Alis had adopted him, changing his name slightly from the original Ordric to Aedric so that his name started with an ‘A’ as all of their children’s names did.   They had tried to make him forget who he had been - a royal prince of the Faesidhe.   They never brought him around the Duke and Duchess or their children, so his memories of the Dark Elves would not be stirred up.

 

Their kindness had grudgingly earned his respect, yet it was for them only, not for the devils that actually ruled Dullerm and Westmark.   Aedric had not forgotten, though he had learned wisdom and kept his hatred of the Drow Duke and Duchess well concealed.

He had, of course, followed his adopted parents into the training of a Knight.   If he had known that this decision would have meant that he would have had to fall under the direct authority of Duke Dullerm, he would have probably done something else.

Thankfully, Aeric trained him along with four others, including Aeric’s son Aaron, and they saw the Duke or Duchess perhaps only for one day each month.  

He had learned to master a fake smile and submissive attitude to them.   But still his father’s Faesidhe pride burned inside.

 

The Queen’s Tournament, however, had meant that all of the Duke and Duchess’ Knights-in-training had to attend.   So they had travelled -Aedric and his four fellow knights-in-training, along with Aeric and Alis, to Westmark.   There, the Duke and Duchess’ six knights-in-training had joined their company.   A day later, Duke Dullerm and Sir Aeric had led the ten of them on the journey to King’s Reach, while Lady Alis, his adopted sister Abigae, the dark Duchess Aurei, and three of her daughters, all travelled on the royal airship.  

 

The Duke’s son, Gamel, was one of six of the Westmark knights-in-Training, and though they were nearly the same age, and Gamel was friendly and polite, Aedric hated him immediately.   Still, he smiled and answered the Drow youth’s questions pleasantly enough.  

 

“We have several hours to waste until the banquet begins this evening.”  Duke Dullerm was addressing all the men in his party, “You all know where we are lodged, feel free to do what you like, just be certain that you all are presentable this evening at the banquet.   Sir Aeric and I are going to meet our wives.   Do what you’d like, but stay out of trouble.”

 

He dismissed them and Aedric used a week’s worth of fake smiles to excuse himself from the other recruits.

“I’ve never been to King’s Reach; I’d like to just take in the city.”  He lied with a pleasant grin to Aaron and Gamel when they suggested checking out the Tournament field.

“Well, alright, we’ll see you later then.”  Aaron had replied and thankfully, he’d separated himself from them.

 

***

 

Aedric wandered aimlessly through the festive atmosphere of the city, finding himself unmoved by the holiday feel in the air.   All around him were humans and Elves who had embraced human culture, along with the mixture of Dwarves, Halflings and other races.

 

Having seen the Faesidhe community as a young child, he found the human world vulgar, dirty and ugly.   The people never ceased to annoy him with their stupidity.   But one day, he’d leave this world and take back the land of his father from the Drow and their human subjects.   Then he’d rule them as a wise king.  

 

It was his destiny, though in Faesidhe eyes, he’d simply been a b*****d born from the political union between the Faesidhe and the primitive, but powerful Sylvan folk of the wooded mountains north of the Great Forest.  

At least his mother’s people were Elves who separated themselves from the humans.   His mother had been the eldest daughter of the King of the Wood Elves, and even the rustic Sylvan Elves were far nobler than the humanized Elves of the human kingdoms.  

 

Certainly, he had very few humans that he did not loath.   Alis and Aeric were half-Elves and completely humanized, but they were simply ignorant of Elven culture and its advantages, so he could forgive them and overlook much.

 

But walking around amongst the smelly, coarse humans, he longed to be as far away from King’s Reach as possible.

 

After nearly an hour of glaring at everyone he passed, he decided to amble over to the merchants that had set up nearest to the Tournament fields.   They were mostly weapon and armor merchants, but as he had nothing else to do, he decided to see if it were possible to find an armorer who could alter his Elven Chainmail.

 

It had been one of Duke and Duchess Dullerm’s few acts that he actually appreciated.    They had given him a large suit of his father’s best Elven Chainmail and though he valued it more than anything, he was not quite as tall as his Faesidhe father (though he would be nearly a giant amongst his mother’s people), so he could not use the armor unless he found someone to make alterations to it.

 

Of course he didn’t trust any ‘regular’ armorer with the task, for Elven Chainmail was much more complex.   He doubted that any of the human and Dwarf craftsmen would have any knowledge of it, but he decided to inquire at a few booths.

 

***

 

“No, we don’t dare touch it, but you might see Thorm of the Westmark Armorer’s Guild at the end of the row; he has someone, I am told, who makes Elven Chainmail.”  The sweaty Dwarf standing over a forge had told him at the first place he enquired.   Aedric received the same response from three other booths, so he decided reluctantly to try the Westmark Armorer’s Guild.

 

He had heard of it, of course, the great Dwarven Guild of armor and weapon smiths, renowned for their skill throughout the Kingdom of Northmarch.   Sadly, they were Duke and Duchess Dullerm’s people, but where else could he find someone to do the job in the human Kingdom?   So Aedric went with a deep frown on his face through the crowd to find the booth.

 

They had a large spot set up for them, taking up the whole end of the row, complete with three portable forges that were enchanted by practical magic to help them work at events such as this.  

 

The ring of hammers filled the air as Aedric quietly joined a small crowd of knights and merchants watching a grey-haired Dwarf and a hideously large hairy brute that seemed to be a Bugbear, working together to form a long sword before the admiring mob of people.  

 

He had to admit, they were very impressive with their skills.   The Bugbear used a huge pair of thongs to hold the orange hot sword while the Dwarf pounded fiercely to shape the metal, his arm muscles proudly showing his years as a master at his craft.  

 

“Impressive, aren’t they?”  A Wood Elf said to him, upon seeing him standing beside him.

“Yes.” 

“Are you a participant in the tournaments?”  The Sylvan Elf kept the conversation going.   Aedric strained to be polite.

“Yes; but right now I’m trying to find someone to repair my Elven Chainmail.   I was told they could do it.   I didn’t know they had such brutes working here.”

 

The Wood Elf smiled sympathetically, “It is somewhat of a freak show.   They have Orcs, that Bugbear over there, and even her.”   He gestured with his head to a table set up off to one side, partially concealed from the spectators by a display of armor for sale.   At the table sat a figure that caused Aedric to blink and look again.

 

She wore the typical leather apron of an armorer, but that was the only thing normal about her.   She seemed to be some sort of Elf or perhaps a nymph, for she had Elven features.   She would have been quite beautiful, had it not been for her coloring.

 

Her skin seemed to be covered with white paint such as a jester or a clown wore.   What was worse was the blood red of her lips, which matched bright red eyes and milk white hair.   It was a shock to see, as if she was portraying some sort of character - perhaps a banshee or ghost.  

In spite of himself, Aedric couldn’t stop staring at her in disbelief at how horrid she seemed, all brilliant white and red.  Well, perhaps not horrid, but startling and intriguing, he thought as he watched her. 

 

“What in the world is that?!”  He asked softly to the Wood Elf, “She’s ghastly… is she wearing that paint for some performance or is it some sort of insane marketing strategy by this Guild?”

 

The Wood Elf shook his head, “No; she’s not wearing makeup.”

“She’s not?!   Do you mean she looks like that naturally?!   What sort of freak is she?!”

“I don’t know; I’ve heard some say she’s a type of albino, though I’ve never seen any Elven albino with skin so white.”

“Neither have I… her lips seem to be nearly dripping with blood!  Yet its not make-up?  No albino has blood red lips!”

The Sylvan Elf just shrugged, “I don’t know that either, but she almost looks like she’s undead or something.   Yet you can’t help but stare at her.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Snoe, I’m told.   Spelled S-N-O-E, but obviously given to her due to her skin color.   It might be a nickname.   That is what I’ve been told about her.   Whenever she comes up here for something, she gets everyone talking about her.   No-one seems to know exactly who or what she is.”

“She’s extremely shy, and from the horror of looking at her, who could blame her?  Though, you know, the longer I look at her, the less creepy she seems to me.   She probably is enchanting us as we look at her.” 

“They keep her out of sight so she won’t upset potential patrons, I’d say.   She doesn’t talk, that I’ve ever seen and some people think she may be a mute.  She does hear well enough, though.   She’s the one you’ll want to talk to, I’m sad to say.   She’s their chainmail craftsman.”

 

“Wonderful; I have to talk to one of the freaks!  Do you know of anyone else who can work on Elven chainmail?”

“No, not here.   She may not be able to either, for all I know, but I’ve heard that she is very skilled.”

“Thanks.”  Aedric murmured, debating forgetting about altering his armor.   But he couldn’t stop staring at her frightful appearance anyway, so this would give him an excuse to see her more closely.

 

He moved as close to her as he could and waved his hands for a full minute before she looked up from her work to see him.   He gestured for her to come to him, and she nodded, holding up a finger to bid him to wait.

 

A few minutes later she stood up and after looking nervously around to make sure none of the crowd who were watching the smiths were looking at her, she pulled her hooded cloak close to her and came forward.

 

As she neared, he got a better look at her.   Her skin seemed almost like a pure white hide, at least from the bit of skin that she revealed.   It was not like the translucent skin of any Albino he had ever seen, for no veins showed from underneath the surface of the skin.  

 

She was all white and red.   In form, she would have been extremely lovely had she possessed normal pigmentation.   Now she seemed like a graceful, shapely marble statue that had been animated, with red eyes and lips painted on.  He had never seen a human or Elven albino with red or even pink eyes - usually they were a mysterious blue.   Her eyes reminded him of albino rabbits or deer.   The effect was very other-worldly and somewhat unnerving.  

 

She seemed to know of the effect she had too, for she came forward very meekly and with a sad smile, and just arched her white eyebrows to silently ask him what he wanted.

 

“Uh… hi.  I was… uh… wondering if you could do alterations to Faesidhe Elven Chainmail?   I desire a suit of my father’s to be resized to fit me.   Can you do this?”

 

The girl smiled slightly and nodded.

“So you can work on Elven Chainmail?”

Again she nodded with a slight smile.

“Um… I don’t want to be rude, but you see, this was my father’s armor and it is precious to me.”

 

She nodded and held up a finger for him to wait.   The girl rushed back to her table and a moment later came back with a tunic of Elven Chainmail that she was in the process of ‘weaving’ together in Elven chainmail format from six strands of wire.

 

She held out the work for him to examine closely.   He took the unfinished tunic and held it close to his eyes to look at the ‘weave’ of the rings.   It was quite remarkable and resembled his suit of mail almost perfectly.

“You did this yourself?”  He asked her and the girl just shyly nodded.

“Now, mine is a complete suit; could you alter it to fit me?”

Once again she nodded with her sad smile.

“I have my suit in my quarters; if I bring it to you today, would you have time to measure me and begin alterations?”

The white-skinned girl nodded.

“How long would it take?”

She shrugged and held up first two, then three, and finally four fingers.

“Two to Four days?”   He confirmed, amazed that she could work that fast.

She nodded.

“What will it cost?”

She leaned forward and touched the broach that he and all the other knights-in-training wore on their cloaks.   The symbols were the insignia of the Duke and Duchess of Dullerm.   The girl smiled sweetly and made a circle with her fingers in response to his question.

“You mean you’ll do it for free?”  

She continued to smile, and pointed to his broach, then to the same broach design on the strap of her apron.

“Oh, I see; because we both are Dullerm’s people.”

She nodded.

“Well, that is certainly fine by me.   I will go get my suit of mail and return shortly, okay?”

She nodded once and turned to return to her table.

 

Aedric just shook his head in amusement at the odd girl, and rushed away to get his armor.

 

Reviews

[Elina]

"Thankfully, Aeric and Alis had treated him well and when his mother had died..." This sentence is rather long, and you never really finish what you were wanting to say about what happened when Aedric's mother died.