/tg/ Fairytale Kingdom Management Story by HypnoJew

-----------------------------------------------------

 

The King awoke, groggy in a pile of extremely comfortable if somewhat itchy sheets, smothered in feather pillows. There was a series of loud thumps, banging along the bannister of his bed. Blearily, he opens his eyes and sees the offending noisemaker, an insect trundling along. Blinking past the blinding light seeping in from outside, he shielded his eyes and forced his aching body to slump off of the bed and onto the floor in a pile. He groaned in a manner lacking all regal kingliness.

 

One day, Monarch for one day, and god damn this was awful. The previous King had been and "evil" and "corrupt" ruler, and by God he was finding out why; nobles were idiots. Already, he wanted to depose them just as his predecessor had, but then some hero would come along and get rid of him. Was this the vicious cycle? Some monarch finally has enough and starts doing things, then along comes a plucky young hero to upset things? Hopefully whoever decided to get rid of him didn't think of the deadly combination of brick-and-pantyhose when applied to an unsuspecting victim. Succession by assassination was a terrible system, but at least you got to make up some big, flashy story to impress the court, but after all that alcohol mixed with whatever the hell that "fairy dust" was, he doesn't even remember the yarn he spun.

There was a knock. It startled him, striking through his aching skull like an icepick. He didn't answer at first. A pause. The knock returned. "Enter," he finally said. A maid came in, an older woman. She looked at the nearly naked King and merely rolled her eyes and muttered something in an ethnic language. Ignoring the new King, she busied herself cleaning the messy room. The King didn't say anything, too distracted with his headache and his mounting concerns of State, a failing, broke country with a disjuncted mess of feudal lords, parishes, and fees who agreed on nothing and produced less. He rubbed his aching temples. He had so much to do and only a lifetime to do it in... which could be only a handful of years if he invited intrepid, do-gooder heroes to depose him.

 

A rich, throaty laugh startled him out of his contemplation, and the monarch whirled to see two frogs- or were they toads- in strangely appropriately sized armor which his hazy mind recognized as the garb of his royal guard. A woman twice his age but without a single line on her face was standing in the doorway and looking all too amused. Looking down, he finally noticed his state of indecency and pulled the comforter stuck to him over himself. "You're early," he stated, more resigned than upset.

 

The sorceress had arrived.

-----------------------------------------------------

 

Upon the throne he sat. Bellies were sated, and idle chit chat passed between powdered wigs and hats and various other absurdities. Under all of them were humans. Funny that.

 

The King stood. Many quieted down, noticing the movement almost immediately. The King attempted to memorize their faces, but there were too many to see them all. They were the canny ones, the ones to be wary of. Ringing his goblet, letting out a dull, tinny, sound but loud enough to get the attention of the remainder of the room.

 

"The King speaks!" a short man with an impeccable mustache declared from midst his many layers of frills adorning his collar.

 

Fear. Anxiety. Tension. The King could seal his fate doing this, but what was the point of ruling if he didn't bother risking this? No better day to do it than day one...

 

"Now that we are full and sated, I have a few announcements," the reigning monarch began with the same steely voice that dared rally against the previous king, "First, I would like to declare the abolition of the child-tax." A truly stupid law designed to limit fratricide that someone thought should be applied to everyone. No one liked it. It was good to open with, "Next-"

 

He had a series of vague points in his head that he had to work through. Abolish this, create that, re-institute such and such. It went on for what felt like an entire working day but in reality it wasn't even lunch yet.

 

"And," he transitioned. There must have been something in his tone because a few of the cannier members of court visibly perked. Most had all but fallen asleep by this point. "we must now move forward. There are too many untapped

resources within our own kingdom, and we have become wasteful in our previous rule. Emissaries will sent to all bodies and powers within our borders who do not swear fealty to the crown," he continued. Looks of confusion and suspicion were abound. The King smiled wanly. "No, no one in this court. You are after all all loyal subjects." In so far as they had sworn themselves to him at his coronation. "I speak of many forces both benign and malign. As the linchpin in securing our land from all malignant forces, I have invited the Lady Malsonia back to court."

 

A plume of blue fire erupted in the middle of the room before collapsing upon itself and spreading a pungent, aromatic smoke throughout the room. Screams and cries rang throughout the room. All in all, it was a lot tamer than what the King had been expecting.

 

"Ah, your majesty!" the woman declared affably, sweeping an overdramatized bow to throne. Murmurs spread througout the room. The sorceress had never been what you'd call cooperative. "May I approach the throne?" she asked, cordial with a smile spreading painted lips across her face. Despite the picturesque way in which she did it, there was a hint of satire in her actions which the King picked up on right away. He didn't know whether or not it was apparent to court, but with the way the woman filled the room, little imperfections became very noticeable.

 

The previous three generations of the monarchy, filling a scant score of years, had been aligned against her. Rumor abound, her affinity for all manners of unclean and ugly creatures had earned her a poor reputation with the commoners. Tales of blood rituals to maintain her youth and the like circulated the entire kingdom. While it was doubtless that she had been mucking about with the hideous underbelly of fantasy, the horrors, she was largely an unknown factor, meddling at what seemed to be her whim.

 

The King inclined his head, and the sorceress approached. At the step before the throne, she knelt and kissed the signet ring. "Rise," the King said. So many rehersals, and it still felt unnatural to him. The magic woman swept to one side of the room, looking as if she had just caught the canary. "The Lady has already sworn fealty to the crown." A clergyman to his right extended a scroll with a rather prominent acid green signet imprint at the bottom. Silence prevaded. "And with her new place among court-" Everyone was uncomfortable, "She has been charged with mediating with previously untamable elements of our land."

 

And there it was. He had attracted the sorceress with legitimacy.

 

-----------------------------------------------------

In a grotto, far far away, a cricket struggled against the tiny arms of a fey creature. Gossamer wings of mosaic, folded behind the gangling shape. Blue hair fell around beady, black eyes on a noseless face above a vaguely feminine body.

 

"Please," the cricket pleaded, "Always listen to your conscience-"

 

Sharp teeth crunched around the cricket's first segment, and it stopped talking. Interlocking teeth masticated with gusto. A splash of color blossomed behind the fey being as the light peaking through the canopy caught in its spreading wings. They began beating faster than the eye could perceive, spreading an entire spectrum of colors behind it. When it took off, a rainbow spread behind it. It smiled as it made its way to its destination. Ichor dripped from its teeth.

 

It came upon a relatively wide-open space and landed on the outstretched finger of a man in uniform. It was a boyish looking man. He scrunched up his face and managed to mangle a few sentences in the creatures atonal, disjuncted language. "Any musical ones?" he asked it. The fey folded its mosaic wings back and interlaced its fingers in front of its girlish hips, shaking its head in a way that wiggled through its whole frame. "Drat," the lad said this time inthe common tongue, "I was hoping we could find one more Tenor beastie."

 

The fey hiccuped, placing a tiny hand over its large mouth to keep down its meal. After all, what did one little cricket hurt?

 

-----------------------------------------------------

A man with a big red beard down to his collar, also wearing a soldier's uniform, scratched his chest as he ambled over to the younger soldier. "Oi, y'fine anyting?" he inquired distractedly, keeping a solid eye on the surroundings.

 

The younger man shook his head resignedly. "No, I'm afraid," he said, "but we managed to corral that baritone boar which should fetch a fair one. Good thing these things sell so well. Everyone wants one making music for them now."

 

"I must protest!" came an indignant snort of the boar hogtied on the cart.

 

"Shaddup," the older of the two spat through his beard, "We're not gettin' close enough fer you to screech our ears bloody again."

 

The younger one still cast a sympathetic look at the boar, "You'll see, it's better. More food in the city. They've got a music hall and everything. Patronage by the crown even,"

 

"Oi've got a wife!" the boar claimed.

 

"No you don't," the bearded one shot down.

 

"I could..."

 

"I know about me pigs. Not fallin' for it."

 

A sparrow in a cage piped in, "S'not so bad, I hear. Got a cousin over there. More seed than he can eat!"

 

"Worried that they're going to eat me," the boar grumbled.

 

"That'd be a waste of a lovely singing voice," the lad commented, hoping to smooth things over. He was holding a tiny folded leaf filled with a thick liquid that his little fey friend was burring its face into. They loved exotic things, and some things that only men could make like Honey Mead were enough to attract their attention. Maybe it'd follow them to their hive. This stuff was better than what those stingy bees made.

-----------------------------------------------------

In the music hall, a center of study and appreciation of the art, there was a downright menagerie of all creatures great and small. There were a number of ordinary folk, but most of them were there to organize the vocalists. The vocalists performed both secular music as well as mass and motets. Today, they would be performing for court, the royal court. Most of them were fat and sated, but it was by no means an easy life. Master human musicians were generally either nobles or clerics because learning was /expensive./ Patronage and novelty kept traffic up sufficiently to not dip too deeply into the red. The upper crust thought they should stick around. For now.

 

Arranged by size and by kind, their combined lung power filled the sizable room easily. In the audience, was the King and his council, his Vizier, and the sorceress.

 

The music hall had taken precious years to build, but although it itself was the epitome of a money pit, something that on the surface would spell disaster for a nation running on appearances and "fairy dust"- the King still didn't know what it was- but it yielded something that most didn't quite have the foresight for. After all, what parish wouldn't want to line its halls with musical flora to sing mass for any who enter or travel along church ground. The animals themselves raised a quieter dilemma; you couldn't just welcome them into society or else they'd displace your constituents and you couldn't outright oppress them or else you'd end up like the King before you. Still, they were a reservoir of musical talent that helped perfect the art around more permanent and cost effective things that could be sold, such as plants. And to think, all you had to do to keep them sterile was to splint them to a different species' trunk or stem. Castratti turned out to be the best for the music world across species, it would seem.

 

The sorceress beside him was humming along with the song, loud enough to have it right in the King's ear but not so much as to disturb the rest of the audience. Long since having gotten used to the oblique humor spell-flingers have, the King sat and discretely scratched at the beard he'd been growing so as to fit the image of a Monarch, at least the one he'd had in his head since he started this nonsense what felt like ages ago.

 

Intermission came, and while many filed out, the King turned to the sorceress, dressed in a royal purple gown as overblown as everything else she wore. Somehow, she looked no less threatening no matter what.

 

"What've you heard from the coven?" he asked abruptly, once the room was devoid of all but stagehands straightening the various stands and furnishings constructed for all walks of life- all walks, from eight legs to two- most of which were mute, deaf, or both.

It was the only work their kind could get in a cruel world that was getting smaller by the day. The land was reaching out to remote, unsettled corners- well, unsettled by man- and the blank spots on the map were being filled in.

 

"Oh, no time to chit-chat," she purred, pouting out her lower lip, "or flirt?"

 

Too level-headed to let something like that get a rise out of him, the King regarded her with a weary eye and awaited her answer.

 

"Oh fuff," she said, leaning back a bit, "you were more fun as a wild-eyed revolutionary."

 

"Had less to worry about too. Worst case scenario, I woke up in a dungeon and got sentenced to some gruesome manner of execution," he drawled, "If I weren't such a fool, I would have never gotten myself neck deep into political b-"

 

"Language, m'Lord," the sorceress' Cheshire grin stretched wide sardonically, "it takes a fool to get anything done. And, I wouldn't have been too happy with you had you not." He snorted. "The coven in the mountains is ambivalent. Still can't wrap their head around the idea that sampling the men that come to the mines is against their best interests. Never have their mind on the grand scheme of things, witches."

 

"Do you think it'll be a problem?"

 

She shook her head. "No, worst case scenario, giantkin can get things started until the commoners are more... accustomed to integration with the untouchables."

 

Giants, Ogres, Trolls. Tough, unphased by many magics, and terribly disorganized and asocial, yet somehow the sorceress had a great number of them at her beck and call. The King had learned to stop caring about the why and focusing on the how, specifically, how it could benefit his goal.

 

"If that's so, then we should speed things up. The land rights agreement can be renegotiated later. As bright as things appear to be," the King looked out to the vocalists reassembling in their mangers, on their perches, and their strange sofas to perform the next part, "We are still teetering on ruin."

 

-----------------------------------------------------

To think, only a few days prior, he had been wondering if bringing the Sorceress back to court had been a terrible mistake.

 

"She did what?" he had asked, having had a hard time mustering even the tiniest bit of credulity.

 

"Glued naked to the ceiling," the emissary had replied.

 

At that time, there had been nothing more to say.The only thing he could have done was summon the two to court, wait for the dull-eyed duke to finish complaining and try to struggle through understanding how anyone could have thought antagonizing a known archmage was a good idea.

 

"Appologize," he had said oh so tiredly. The noble had looked triumphant at that until he added, "Both of you, and then stop wasting my time. The crown shouldn't be bothered with this until We have at least one heir."

 

In the beginning, the crown's coffers were empty. The Nobles were at each other's throats, and the peasants were being picked off one by one by the many things that dwell in the wilderness, death, disease, famine. The big three had been plaguing him.

 

They still were, but at least it looked like he was doing something while he was trying to actually do things that would upset people but would actually help. Running a Kingdom was hard, and he was nearing his fourth year of tenure at this point and still without an heir. Everyone knew it, and while everyone wanted their daughter next to the throne, it was so tedious to untangle every little web attached to every young lady's person to get at what was really going to happen through this marriage.

 

He needed to do something unexpected, as was steadily becoming his trademark.

 

Maybe he should marry the sorceress, Malsonia?

 

Not the right kind of unexpected.

 

The thing about living in a society like theirs, the only way to get anything worth having was to go to war. No one likes war, and it would be a huge drop in popularity. Meanwhile, there was just barely enough surplus from town to town for some seasonal trade.

Not nearly enough though. Glacial was the only way to describe things. Opening the boarders could work, but it would cause such economic upheaval that- The King pinched the bridge of his nose and stemmed the oncoming headache. Every time he had a moment to himself, every problem the entire kingdom had decided to come and bother him, either in his mind or via some thrice cursed messenger who everyone knew had bad news by virtue of the fact he looked terrified. Killing the messenger was counter productive although it always sounded like it would make him feel a lot better.

 

"With the taxes lower, trade has gone up noticeably this year," his Vizier said in his naturally oily tones. Did he realize that everyone was going to think he was corrupt if he always talked like that? Maybe that was the point. No one crosses the corrupt politician if they can help it unless they're some intrepid hero looking for trouble.

 

The concert had ended, and he had parted ways with the sorceress. Everyone wanted to see the performances, but no one wanted to pay for them. Ce la vi. Still, it's secondary function was keeping it liquid and spreading some culture about the land.

 

"How badly is it hurting castle affairs?" the King asked.

 

"Very," the man drawled, tugging on his wickedly pointed goatee in some thought, " but the important people have their fees, their baronies, and their duchies and are content."

 

"I figured and was more worried about feeding the servants."

 

"Yes, yes, they can go for an extra day of boiled gruel out of the year," he had said dismissively, "Your token insistence on reducing the lavishness of your banquets and such seems to have mitigated too much grumbling."

 

"Good." The King still couldn't stand some of the food the upper echelons were supposed to eat. Goose, veal, and the like, he could understand, but fish eggs and jello colored with child's urine? He felt sorry for anyone that felt they had to eat that rot.

If they shipped off some singing fern to some parish and it taught a few commoners how to read music, then maybe it would catch on and be a subtle break in the monopoly the church held on education. The income didn't hurt either, but there was nothing that aided morale quite like music; nor anything that could inspire the world quite like new ideas. Hopefully it appeared more benign in the form of simply writing down pitches and meter.

 

Now all he had to do was ring up some publicity, something good to mitigate the fallout from what was coming up. "Is there any word from the others cohabiting the land with our people?" the King asked, musing about what was to come.

 

"Not hardly. They're still terribly confused it seems. Not quite used to being walked up to and chatted with it seems. Might take a while for the beasts to get used to it."

 

"Good..."

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

It was a rather massive lake. On its surface, the sky and the snow-capped mountain reflected, picturesque among the glistening grasses and the thick wood surrounding it. This is not at all what the King had expected.

 

"You want me to what?" he asked, terribly unsettled.

 

"Wade inta da wadda," a hunched over little troll, small for his kind and about as tall as a man if you counted the huge hump on his back rather than the top of his head. His strange mouth, wider and somewhat crooked, made it difficult for the being to speak any sort of civilized language, but he was clear enough as to what he wanted, just not why.

 

"I'd love to, bu-"

 

The troll snarled, maw full of jagged, crooked teeth. his canines protruded at an angle in his gums set above and under the rest of his teeth. The King wasn't sure how practical they were, but they certainly looked dangerous. The men-at-arms around the king all visibly tensed, hands on their weapons almost immediately. Only the King's hand stayed them. Even with the strange tolerance the crown had for the fouler creatures in this world, no one had any reason to trust them.

 

The King's hand dropped and he tried not to show his exasperation on his face. The troll would slaughter a good number of his men before they could take it down should they come to blows. Twisted though its frame may be, it was very strong and could easily bowl its way through the rank and file to scatter them. Despite the wariness everyone held for the foul folk, they always seemed to forget why they were so wary.

 

"M'Lord, the sorceress is playing games with us," a Knight, an officer, said with an ugly look on his face. He was probably right; although the King could admit no such thing.

 

"Ease your heart, we are here in good faith," the King soothed. One thing he had learned in his short few years on the throne is that you can always calm someone with a few words that mean absolutely nothing if you think about them for longer than a few moments.

Fortunately no one did.

 

"Lads," the King said loudly. The men all snapped to attention, and the troll sent them all a cautious, jaundiced eye to regard them, "It's been a while since We had the time to go on an adventure." Murmurs spread throughout the ranks, and they only grew as the King wandered forward. One or two men let out a panicked cry when his first boot sank below the surface of the water. He was confident. If the King lost his life by foolishly trusting the dark, evil sorceress, he'd be a martyr and she'd have a war on her hands, one that she might lose to attrition or even a Pyrrhic victory if the people were angered enough. She wasn't stupid.

 

Something grabbed his foot.

 

Then again...

 

And he was pulled under.

The men panicked, and the Troll had the good sense to pop down on its long arms and gallop towards the trees while the men were still collecting themselves. Some broke off the chase after it, but one of the knights among them stayed them. "Get back here!" he had bellowed. It was all it took to get them to come to a halt.

 

"The King has been taken! Search the lake!" someone said.

 

"...How?" came another.

 

They were at a loss.

-----------------------------------------------------

 

The troops were scattered along the banks of the lake. Waist-deep, their leggings and undergarments were soaked. This would lead to problems later, but right now, a missing King was far more terrifying. They were scattered. If something were to swoop in to pick them off, now would be the perfect time.

 

"What's that?!" one of the men cried. Something was shining up from under the surface of the lake, the center. It was clearly moving towards the southern bank. The men broke into a frenzy, scrambling to the shore and aiming to cut it off on the other bank, but it was moving too quickly. They weren't going to be able to intercept it.

 

A head poked up above the surface of the water, and soon a pair of broad shoulders followed. Most of the men had their weapons drawn, and saw that the creature was carrying another, a brightly growing creature wrapped around it. From its head, many hairs floated in the air as if it were still in the water.

 

"Stow your weapons!" the creature cried in a surprisingly rich voice, startling the troops that had gathered to capture it.

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

 

When the King had been dragged under the surface of the water, he had done what anyone would have done. He had struggled against the grip and attempted to kick loose. His heavy clothes and armor were weighting him down terribly. If he were pulled in too deeply, he might not be able to make it back to the shallows.

 

His water-blurred vision made it difficult to make out what had him, but he flailed against it the same until a hand touched his face; and he could see.

The water was like cool glass to the King now, and he was so shocked that he let out his breath of air. He turned his head to see what had touched him, and face-to-face with a pair of the blackest, shiniest eyes he had seen. They were set into the face of a woman, which was the last thing he had been expecting. He traveled down her naked form, as any sensible man would take the opportunity to do. His struggling renewed.

 

Beneath her was a tail, a horrible appendage that undulated like a shark darting around its prey. Her upper body rolled from side to side, crawling over him like a snake, no, like a fish, as she swam through the waters and over him. The beast's face appeared in his again, and its mouth opened, revealing the horrible, needle-like incisors ready to bore into him.

 

What did press to him was a lot softer than he expected. Why the beast had sealed itself over his mouth, he broke away, and then he made his biggest mistake. He gasped for breath, and water filled his lungs. Now was really the time to panic.

 

A strong grip kept him from scrambling away under water, but it was no longer pulling him away from the surface. Finally, it dawned on him. He wasn't suffocating anymore. Looking down, he regarded the demihuman creature holding his leg in its iron grip. She smiled a horrible smile, showing off her terrifying maw, but then her mouth closed again, and she pursed pouting lips that made him reconsider his position.

 

"I take it you neglected your lore in your youth," she said in a smug tone, "your /majesty/."

 

The King frowned and finally realized what was going on. "A mermaid's kiss..." he started, although it was horribly awkward sounding through the water in his mouth.

 

The creature smiled again, and grabbed him. With a few powerful strokes of its rudder-like tail, it propelled them deeper down. Much deeper. It was getting dark.

Why he wasn't told in advance, he'd never know. The King wasn't sure whether he should be indignant at the rough handling or embarrassed for his earlier struggling, but he was certain that this specimen was merely tactless. Most fair folk were. They could get away with it.

 

Down, down, he was dragged. He had no idea this lake went this deep. It was just a lake after all albeit one sitting in some remote corner of the wilderness. time slowed down as they traveled. how far could it be? It was so dim down here that all he could really make out was the silhouette of the mermaid pulling him along, hugging him to her.

 

"Ah, you've finally arrived."

 

Coming to attention, the King realized he had been carted into a grotto. A light of some sort had been lit. and finally he could make out the details of his surroundings again, crystal clear once more. The light danced across the surface of undersea algae and strange animals like the anemone.

 

"Welcome, your majesty," Malsonia said again once the King had gotten his bearings. Of course she was here.

 

"I sincerely hope that coming all the way down here was completely necessary," the King said as calmly as he could, "and this isn't some game."

 

"You're getting better at that," the sorceress complimenting, applauding him. The sound of the clapping was muffled, and ripples were sent through the water and disturbed some of the bits and bobs floating about, "So much more menacing than when you first took the throne. Almost a true King."

 

Kingship was an overrated, burdensome position, so he wasn't as offended as he probably should have been. "When we first agreed upon our alliance, I gave you legitimacy in your activities with the foul folk, and you brought to me a whole part of the Kingdom that had been neglected and whose voices couldn't be heard before," he began.

 

"And the foul folk have been stirring. Most are ambivalent to the shift in tone humans are having," the sorceress commented, "Nothing changes overnight."

"And that is one reason why I have to push forward while the rest are still adjusting. They cannot be waited on, and I trust they will adapt eventually. Your granted lands will serve as an intermediary between the two worlds until they can assimilate properly and become accustomed to less direct forms of prejudice that will likely evolve to cope with legality," the King proceeded, "and why I need to push forward with the fair folk."

 

Behind him, the mermaid laughed. It was a rich sound like a shower of falling bells. He turned and regarded her. She had her arms wrapped around her belly, under her breasts, and was bending over at a strange angle, probably thanks to her strangely oriented spine.

 

"Do you have something to say?" the King asked without showing the genuine curiosity boiling within him. What was so funny?

 

"The foul ones," the mermaid said once she got a hold of herself. She sent a leer with her beady eyes at Malsonia the sorceress, "they have so much to gain from the humans table scraps. The fair folk have nothing to gain!"

 

Oh, that's all? The King could not contain contain his grin. "Have you ever considered why human have been so maligned against the foul folk for so long?"

 

"Because they're hideous of course."

 

"And because they prey on the unsuspecting... as do the fair folk. It's just easier to catch flies with honey than with vinegar as it were."

 

The mermaid nodded, still smug.

 

"But once the raids stop, and it becomes apparent that the only way to survive is to assimilate, the foul folk won't be able to be the monsters that go bump in the night anymore. only one set of monsters will be left."

 

The mermaid went stiff.

 

"And unless you want to be still detached when that comes about..." the King shrugged and swam over with as much dignity he could to the sorceress. "Shall we?"

-----------------------------------------------------

Deeper in the grotto, the source of light became apparent. Sitting on what appeared to be an elaborate master chair carved out of the cave wall, the kind a head of a household would sit at, there was the source of the light. It was a woman, and the light shined from her very skin. The King averted his eyes. She was not so bright as to cause him distress, but she was beautiful, so much so that it caused him distress. So very fair, when her lips drew together in an 'o' of surprise and intrigue, it caused him pain. Instead, he focused on the chair itself, and appreciated some of the inlays that went into it, doubtlessly haven taken much labor to carve out of a rock. However, it was worn, probably eroded from its time spent underwater.

 

The light grew brighter. No, the source was just closer. He looked up and saw ice-blue eyes boring into him. He had expected a cold scrutiny as he had first received when he met Malsonia, but instead he was regarded with what seemed to be innocent curiosity. He was caught off guard. The glowing woman took his hand in his, and he didn't think to resist or question her exploration. Confused, the King turned to regard the sorceress as the shining woman nuzzled into the palm of his hand,sending her platinum locks dancing in the water around her. The first bit of worry scurried through the King's belly when he saw Malsonia's lips spread in a vicious grin, a display of teeth.

 

The King howled in pain, and his head snapped back to the shining woman. She had latched onto the side of his hand. He pulled away, but that only caused more pain to shoot through his hand and up his arm. Even with her teeth sunk into his flesh, she looked serene. Rather than struggle more and risk utterly destroying his hand, he reached for a dagger he had on his belt to free himself. His hand locked around the hilt, but then the shining woman's eyes shifted and regarded him. Somehow, it awoke the chivalry inside him and his hand was stayed.

The vice-like pressure on his hand released, and blood poured from it and the mouth of the woman. Blood stained her lips, painting them a deep red. She smiled at him. "I like him," she said, kissing the wound she had made one.

 

The King felt eyes on his back. He turned around and saw that the mermaid that had escorted him down was peaking around the doorway and panting visibly. She was not alone. A dozen eyes were worming in the dark, silhouetted against the blackness outside. Some appeared to be more merfolk. Others had even more worrisome forms, but he had no time to waste regarding them. He focused on the matter at hand, at a rather bloody, aching hand.

 

"So sorry," the sorceress said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest, "She still hasn't grown out of that."

 

Confusion settled in the King, but he paid it no heed. He could figure this out later. "And who is this lovely lady?" he inquired instead, hoping that this would be productive. It would make up for the wound if it was.

 

The sorceress smiled. "Allow me to introduce to you the Lady of the Lake," she purred.

 

Surprise filled him, but what could he say? "A pleasure," he said as he tenderly touched his hand that was still seeping blood. She had bitten clear through the leather gauntlet that was strapped to his hand.

 

The shining woman smiled from her stone throne and clasped her hands together. She smiled at the King.

 

"And," Malsonia continued, "She has a proposition for you."

 

To think, the King had come with a proposition for her.

"There is very little which can avert the tides of change," the shining woman said, tilting her head to the side. The King awaited further details. She didn't add anything.

 

Turning his head to Malsonia, he thought maybe the sorceress was to explain the rest, but she was giving the shining woman an irritable look which seemed to be being disregarded.

 

Reconnoitering himself, the King replied, "I concur."

 

"Then it's settled," the woman said happily.

 

What did he just do?

 

The woman stood from the stone and floated through the water towards him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and held him to her.

 

What did he just do?

-----------------------------------------------------

The men were gathered around the south bank of the lake, the two beings that had emerged from it were waterlogged and dripping wet.

 

"Stow your weapons!" one of them bellowed at them. The troops had been shocked into hesitation.

 

Shifting the glowing thing in its arms, the creature pulled some kelp from its face. It was the King. The men rushed forward, but parted as the monarch strode forward with what turned out to be a being of such beauty in his arms that silence fell among them. Her head was buried in the crook of his neck, and her hair was flowing behind and around her as if she was still in the water. Turning, she shifted and regarded the men.

 

And told them a story.

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

"What do you make of it?" a grunt asked a peon. They were two very young men, if you could call them men, standing guard at a manor they had stopped at on the back to the capital. It was the third township so far.

 

"I dunno," he said, "but I'm happy to keep sharing it so long as the peasants keep bringing us beer to loosen our tongues."

 

The story had been spinning wildly out of control and gaining more momentum with every township they stopped at. By the time they got back to the capital, the kitchen staff would probably know more about what happened down in the lake than the King himself.

 

All the man has to do is stumble down some dark, dank hole and emerge a hero, rescuing the woman and acheiving some sort of military victory, et cetera, et cetera. Well, that was how the man became King, but twice in one lifetime?

 

"You... you think the woman he brought back..." the grunt asked.

 

"Yeah?" replied the peon.

 

"You think she's a fey?"

 

That earned a snort from the grunt. "Of /course/, she's a fey. Did you get a load of that bird? I swear, she's glowing."

 

"She is rather beautiful..."

 

"Actually glowing."

 

The grunt nodded. When she first emerged from the lake, she seemed to be shining very brightly, but it seemed to have dimmed down as of late.

Still, there was nothing

 

The night was relatively still at their post, but off in the distance, they heard the raucous sounds of celebration. There was something difficult about having to work while others were off celebrating so close by, but they had managed to get their time off in the town before. Someone had to do the work. Maybe they'd get to participate in the festivities again in the next one or the one after that.

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

At the capital, all was abuzz. The townsfolk were talking, the nobles were reeling, and the castle staff were bustling.

 

"They expect us to light a sweltering forge in the middle of the room?" The Vizier asked incredulously, "Whatever for?"

 

"Do nobles ever need a reason for crazy?" the portly older man asked, throwing his arms up, "I just know what has to be set up. If I worried about why, I'd go insane." The man thrust the list at the Vizier, nearly impaling it on his pointed goatee and stormed off. Apparently he was busy.

 

The Vizier snatched it up and read through the rest of the list under his breath. "A forge to be set up... a delivery from Malsonia's duchy... and a hundred oxen?" He looked up confused. None of those things sounded like they'd be good news when read together, let alone easy to deal with even individually. He rubbed his temples and grit his teeth. It was time to get to work.

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

"What?" the King asked through a clenched jaw.

 

"I sai-"

 

The King cut Malsonia off, "I got it." He looked up at the glowing woman floating in the grotto. She looked as if there was nothing wrong in the world. It was starting to irritate him, but he directed it at someone who was most likely more deserving of his ire. "Why did you get me into this?" he asked her.

 

The sorceress looked surprised. "Isn't this a good thing?"

 

The King looked up to the beautiful creature embracing him. "Actually, much better than I had even hoped for," he admitted.

 

Malsonia rolled her eyes in a manner that summed up every flaw the king had. "Then what's the problem?" she asked,

 

Advanced warning would have been nice. "Oh, but I thought we had something special, Lady Malsonia," he teased, shifting gears to avoid going down what would probably be an unpleasant road. The arms of the Lady of the Lake tensed.

 

"Hmm, oh," the sorceress said, running a hand down her side and over her hip, "And bring anarchy to your domain? I don't think they'd be happy with that wicked, wicked creature hiding in that tower so far away would be welcome any further in polite society, tolerated though I may be. Under different circumstances though... " She blew him a kiss, "But for now, the obvious choice is her, so you're stuck with my little sister. I hope you don't mind."

 

The Lady of the Lake dug her fingers into the King's shoulders, not painfully but tightly. She stooped down to look at him. A hint of frustration showed. "I have the perfect gift," she said.

-----------------------------------------------------

The King was finally at what had been his home for a few years, an overblown and overdecorated keep. part of him really just wanted to sell the decor which he really had no use for. Fancy useless trinkets were still useless trinkets. The "gift" that the Lady had proposed sounded on the surface to be another such thing. Everyone was so wrapped up in the thoughts of what a king should have, that the station got loaded down with a bunch of shiny garbage.

 

He had a number of days almost entirely to himself. His political campaigns had come to a halt in light of the news, and everyone was too preoccupied to notice much of anything else. It would have been a perfect opportunity to walk out the back door and conduct some business while everyone was distracted had his entire staff not been indisposed with the preparation and guarding his fortress. The castle was vulnerable with this much hubbub, and the people who assassinated kings were stupid heroes who didn't understand the consequences of what they were doing... like how he admittedly had been.

 

He would fill his time with figuring out what exactly that damnable fey was up to, but it was bad luck to see her for the next few days, or so everyone said. Blast. He knew Malsonia was busy with the part of the deal she had arranged with her sister, but he was going absolutely stir crazy. Striding over to a drawer, he retrieved a black hand mirror he had stuffed away inside. He rubbed it.

 

And waited.

 

"HELLO S-S-SONNY~!"

 

The King nearly dropped the mirror when the face of the wartiest hag he had ever seen greeted him. He managed to keep it from slipping and calmed himself down.

The hag cackled to herself. Apparently she enjoyed doing that a little too much. "Malsonia isn't available deary, I'll send something over to take a message." The mirror now only reflected himself, and he stowed it back from whence it came, knowing that whatever the hag had meant, it wasn't good. Witchery was not as dramatic or awe-inspiring as Malsonia's brand of magic, but it was always more left-handed.

 

Turning around, he saw a tiny red man sitting on his desk, holding a parchment and quill. "Message sir?" it said, red tongue flickering out of its mouth like a snake. The little horns on its head said all that needed to be said. Tricky little things. He wouldn't want the little thing getting any ideas.

 

The King unhooked a flask from his belt and passed it over to the thing. "You'll need this," he said.

 

"Oh, thankyee, sir!" it replied graciously, lifting up the flask as big as itself and tipping it back. It giggled and belched up a small spark.

 

The King definitely had words to share with the sorceress.

-----------------------------------------------------

After several agonizing days where the King had little to do except plot, things were finally underway. They were three sleepless days into festivities and finally it was actually underway. A priest smiling benignly at all assembled presided over the courtyard. The King thought he saw something suspicious bustling under the priest's robes but didn't want to make trouble where there was none, not really.

 

Amid the celebratory mood, there were a group of masked men slaughtering the last dozen of the oxen, something the Lady of the Lake's little present called for for reasons the King didn't want to know.in the middle of what would have been the aisle, there was instead a sweltering forge that had been erected out of some exotic stonework overnight. On the backs of concealed persons, likely foul folk of various kinds judging by the vague, lumpy shapes underneath what was being brought forward was an unfinished blade in front of a chest.

 

Well then.

 

There was a clang. Someone banged a tool up against the forge. The King wrinkled his nose at the noise. It was unpleasant. There was another. The figures in the robes took the blade in, and it was lowered into the fire without so much as using tongs. Gasps went around the assembled audience mixed with nobles and more common bloodlines.

 

It was ripped out of the fire and thrown down. The four robed beasts, unwilling to show their visages to the world around them, came down on it with what looked like twenty-pound hammers. Each struck once after the other, circling around three times before casting it back into the fire. The King frowned. He was no metallurgist, but that couldn't be good for it.

It was ripped out again. A spark rolled off of it with a bang. Worried eyes went to the spectacle, expecting a blaze to erupt from the proceedings. Everyone was so distracted with the strange practice of the creatures under the robes that they didn't even see the fey being approaching down the aisle.

 

The foul folk hiding their faces continued to pound and refire the metal in a baffling display of a dance-like presentation. It captured the eye of the guests.

 

The Lady was upon them, and the beasts threw it down and scattered, but the Fey grasped the white hot metal and from it, bits of the radiant luminosity flaked away, blowing into the air. A hilt and handle crept out of the light and clasped to it. Everyone was baffled. What remained was a perfect but simple sword being carried daintily through the aisle.

 

When the Lady reached the King, she handed it over to the bemused King. Leaning in, she whispered, "The spectacle is more important than technique in matters like these." How she could answer nothing and raise more questions was sincerely starting to bother him.

 

The Priest cleared his throat. "Are we ready to proceed?"

 

The King inclined his head, but the Lady of the Lake placed her hand over his. "First, what will you name it?"

Name a sword? You named a child or a pet, not a wrench or spade. The King looked at the sword and thought about it. He wasn't a fan of swords. They were an unwieldy weapon so expensive and impractical that only the noble class could afford to purchase or learn to use one. Put a spear or a crossbow in an untrained man's hand, and they could be effective in no time... or a brick in a sock. It was hard not to smile at that.

 

But, when he looked at the blade, he considered its aesthetics. It was simple despite being a sword. It was about as long as a grown man's arm from handle to tip. How it had been made in that fantastical display or if it was all just fey trickery to amuse the guests or themselves wasn't really an issue. It was more slender than a sword probably should be, appearing delicate almost. Shifting it in his hand, he heard a quiet ring build up and crescendo quickly before dying down. It was actually rather beautiful in its simplicity. Leaning in, he quietly communicated what he had in mind to the Lady.

 

She made a perfect 'o' with her lips which softened into a smile. "It will not be forgotten," she said serenely.

 

Again, the priest cleared his throat. The King nodded and beckoned him to proceed. A knowing smile subtly ghosted across the priest's face, but it went away almost immediately. Standing up straighter, the priest opened a small booklet and read aloud, "Today, we are gathered here to witness-"

 

The din the crowd had been producing died down out of respect. This was a major moment in the monarchy and history. The ethereal woman although no doubt beautiful beyond that which most any mortal could hope for was not any mere mortal. This was a legend in the making.

 

"-You may kiss the bride," the priest finished. What followed was a brief embrace and a small peck on the lips that turned into something into a little longer. The Lady of the Lake's natural shining from glowed a little more brightly.

A cheer broke out and swept across the crowd. The King raised a hand and acknowledged their joy. As per tradition, he swept his bride up off of her feet, an easy feat with her being as unnaturally light as she was. It was a long walk back to the keep, and a while before he would have any privacy, but the crowd could only follow them so far before the guards started to twitch.

 

Once inside, the staff applauded them. Maintaining his aura of graciousness, the King swept past them. Not much farther. Eventually, he made it to his private apartment within the keep of the castle.

 

Finally. Privacy. "My King?" The Lady inquired. She had his attention very quickly. She was enrapturing in every little thing she did. "It would be prudent to consummate as soon as possible." Well that was direct, but in the short time he'd known her, she'd had no intermediate modes between vague and to the point. She was right though. He was a king without an heir. She got his attention once more whe when she placed a hand on his cheek. "Your line will be blessed," she said, "This is no small contract, the fair folk will either assimilate now or perish. You are saving us both."

 

He didn't quite know how to react to that.

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

It had been a week. A very busy one. Between administrative duties and the surprisingly demanding duties he found himself with There was the business of the mine just outside of Malsonia's duchy. Although it was outside of her official domain, the foul folk pocked the area. It was still a conundrum. The witches weren't being particularly cooperative.

 

On top of that, there were rumors about smoke from the mountains, and now there was dragon panic. Fantastic. He had to meet with his main supporters. There was only so much he could do with his own authorities.

Black. Black, black, black, black. Why did Malsonia have so many black things? Black marble, black curtains, ebony piano keys... Oh, there were some velvet cushions. Very purple. He never got the hang of this place. There was always some goblin or other fiend minding its own business but somehow manages to startle him. Something in the back of his head always told him to jump when he saw one. It wasn't right, but it was just one of those things that couldn't be helped.

 

Strangely, the sorceress was his most useful supporter, but it probably had something to do with his support being the only thing that kept all official scrutiny away from her activities. In all actually, the King had no idea what goes on in Malsonia's tower or in anything hiding in her duchy. He didn't particularly care though. The only inhabitants of her territory were foul folk and the occasional fey who had her so ingrained as their Lady that there was little point in interfering in her affairs. It was a strangely powerful position she had wormed her way into despite being so precarious.

 

There was something stranger about being alone in Malsonia's tower than when there were foul folk going about their business. Oh, there was one. A hag trundled past a doorway with a wooden pipe hanging out of her crooked mouth. She paused and took notice of the king and cast him a wicked smile before making her way out. It looked like the same one who had answered the mirror that one time. There was nothing stranger than an affable hag.

Eventually, Malsonia appeared. She kept him waiting whenever she could, it seemed. It was likely a power play, but the King could care less. If he was bored, he could read a book. "Well, there's been a bit of an upset," she announced, looking thoroughly annoyed, "The coven living next to the mine is being especially stubborn, but I think they're understanding at least that the mine will be constructed with or without them and they won't get anything if they force my hand," she announced on her way in, "so there's that. Much more accommodating now.

 

She sighed with the back of her hand to her forehead. Her little melodramas seemed to be one of her biggest sources of entertainment. "So, how is the Merchant's guild responding?"

 

"About as well as can be expected. The kind of person who becomes a merchant doesn't fuss about who gives them their wealth. They either have more important things to worry about or are too preoccupied with the the reward." He waved it off. "They chomping at the bit."

 

"Good. There is a surprisingly enterprising family of ogres waiting to move in as soon as they can. They're young enough that fitting into cave won't be a problem. Though, it may take time for them to figure everything out."

 

"How soon can you get them to begin?"

 

The sorceress made a hmm in her throat as she reclined back and crossed her legs. "Let's give the coven three days," she proposed, "After that, they'll have made their own bed."

 

"Agreed. Now, have you heard any rumors about dragons?"

 

"Dragons?" Malsonia asked, taken aback.

 

"Well-"

When there's a dragon scare, two things are possible really. Either there's a dragon and people are terrified, or there isn't a dragon and people are still terrified. Now, the King had no real intention to antagonize a dragon even if there was one, but you had to keep there from being an outright panic. So what did you do? you had send out expeditions to search for the dragon and hope to high heavens you never find one. Normally this meant increased soldier activity and a slight raise in taxes to pay for it, but at the very least it meant stationing soldiers in area that normally didn't have much actual trade. And wouldn't it be convenient if one of the fortresses to be set up happened to be along what would be the new trade route the merchants would hash have to out to bring precious resources out of the foul folk's lands?

 

It wouldn't be official for weeks though. People didn't just travel for the sake of it, so it was unlikely anyone would notice. The minor tax he would have to levy for supporting the troop deployment wouldn't be nearly enough though, and so he had to get a little creative.

 

A royal decree would be needed to get what he needed, in this case from the prisons.

Prisons were terribly inefficient things. The only thing detainment was actually good for was political prisoners which although he had many political adversaries, he hadn't taken any particularly radical steps towards as of yet. The majority of them were debtors with the occasional murderer thrown in the mix, collecting dust.

 

And that is why his scribe was putting the finishing touches on the decree now. All that was awaiting was his seal.

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

"Prisoner 63841000," a man read from a piece of parchment. A man in shackles stepped forward warily. There had been a lot of changes recently. The prison life was hard for anyone. Stale bread and water withwas a terrible diet and with not even enough space to pace properly, a man's strength could be sapped your strength and morale in a matter of days. The prisoner was having trouble standing actually, but he had seen what happened to the ones who keeled over. It kept him on his feet. When he stepped forward, he was placed in a completely different line. No explanation was offered. He was just to wait. the two lines eventually were bustled out by the guards. What was going on?

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

In a wagon, Prisoner 63841000 was in the same predicament as a number of other men. It had taken a while for anyone to tell any of the prisoners anything. The prisons were being downsized, horribly. Sure, every landlord of modest means had their own private holding cells, but all those arrested by he crown, you weren't going to be held, your assents were seized and you yourself were going to be appraised and contracted out as an indentured servant, that or put to death if you were a real nasty piece of work. Rather than sapping money from the system, you were generating it.

 

But his wagon... the Merchants guild that took his contract was heading to a very strange land indeed. One with a very curious spire on the horizon.

-----------------------------------------------------

The merchants were rather unsympathetic to the indentured servant's plight. They weren't fans of debtors no matter what the context by virtue of their trade, and those who weren't debtors likely did something worse. Prisoner 63841000, or "you there" as he was most often called nowadays, was cripplingly exhausted, but he liked the whip more than he wanted to rest. The only upside to his current predicament was that the food was much better. They didn't want laborers weak. Still, it'd be some time before he could do more than carry a small amount of weight.

 

As he carried a load of what looked like rocks with tiny, shiny flecks into the wagon that transported here, he warily eyed the five, huge ogres staring out of shaggy manes over huge, bulbous, protruding noses at the prisoners while the biggest one of the bunch exchanged guttural words with merchants that brought them here. He didn't like it whenever the Ogres pointed towards the prisoners nor the level of scrutiny cast on them.

 

Once the dozen or so men, already weak from prolonged malnutrition and exhausted from heaving loads into the wagon were finished, most of them slumped down and prayed that they weren't asked to do anything else.

 

Unfortunately, the wagon was full. Prisoner 63841000 was not thrilled about the idea of walking home, but any place filled with Ogres, no matter how cordial they were being, was not a place he wanted to remain in for long. He glanced at the other wagons that made their way down here. It seemed that they were all full too. The guards the caravan probably wouldn't have too much trouble with the indentured servants with how overtired they would be, but it sounded like a lot of trouble.

Some of the wagons already full were heading out. Much to Prisoner 63841000's horror, the chain gangs were tethered not to the wagons but to great metal rods driven into the ground around the mine entrance. In a matter of moments, he was lifted up off his feet by his hair, and he too left by the cave. From all the wagons, there were two score men left, left with the Ogres. He finally realized that the Merchant's Guild only brokered the indentured servant's contracts.

-----------------------------------------------------

The King was in court- technically- and was having great difficulty not showing the boredom on his face. His Vizier was making no such effort. He in a room with some noble girl of some indeterminable relation to the previous monarch. She was a princess technically and had some royal office of menial but overall unimportant station. Technically she was in line for the throne, but she had at least ten people in front of her. Why was she bothering the King? Well, she marched in uninvited at the tail end of a court session. She hadn't shown before, and while she was breaking no laws by actually coming to fulfill her obligations, it was completely tactless.

 

"You're speaking," the King said slowly, keeping his head propped up with his hand, elbow on the arm of his throne, "but you still haven't told me what you /want/."

 

"You're selling people!" she declared, pointing at him accusingly. The rest of the assembly had left already. They'd been talking in circles for nearly fifteen minutes.

 

The King blinked slowly and tried to process this. "What... do you want?-" Well, that didn't work the first two times "- What is your plan?"

 

"Oh," it seemed that it finally sunk in, "Release them."

 

The Vizier audibly choked on his saliva just outside of the King's peripheral vision. Sitting up a bit straighter, the King exhaled slowly. "And," the King started slowly, not wanting to overwhelm the dear princess with words, "you want to release murderers, rapists, and the criminally insane to the public?"

 

"Wha-"

 

"Did you realize that we're putting criminals to hard labor rather than locking them up and feeding them for nothing?" The King had had enough, "We do not have time for this. It's admirable that you take an interest in important decrees, but you've had weeks to do this. If you disagree with a measure, speak before it's passed." The King would have to speak with the girl's father. She was a nuisance, but by no means troubling.

As he left, the girl was actually following him. He hadn't been harassed like this since his... third day in office. Of course, that was back when all the current political system was finding out what he would and would not tolerate.

 

"You could have done something else," she said.

 

The King stopped and pivoted around on his heel and took a step towards the annoying child. "And it is too late! Even if We wanted to, We cannot stop the wave that was started. If you have a course of action, write it down and then do please share it with the rest of us. Until you have something to add or say or do, do not criticize those who are actually trying to solve problems!" He composed himself and frowned. "You cannot tear down an institution without something to replace it, or you'll just make things worse. If you cannot come up with something, gather brilliant people who can, and put the pieces together. Now good day."

 

He left. Patience exhausted. If she couldn't take good advice, she didn't deserve it. He had more important things to do than to pander to children in adult bodies.

-----------------------------------------------------

Brunhilde jabbed a gnarled, gnarled, bony finger at one of the servants her eldest brother had traded for. "Hyu dere," she said, "Bruda wants you." Confused, prisoner 63841000 followed. He was just happy to stop pushing carts and busing strange things that passed for tools.

 

In a hollowed out section of the mine, there was a huge table built for an ogre thrice the height of a normal man. Inside was the hairy beast, standing over parchment of some kind. "Oooh, you!" he said, ambling over and slapping a dinner plate-sized hand over Prisoner 63841000's back. "You, I need you to do something for me," he said. His Common was a log clearer than any of the other ogres, which was the one thing tolerable about him. His tendency to knock the air out of smaller, more fragile humans was not so pleasant. "You, what your name?" The ogre asked all of a sudden. He peered down at the serial number across the prisoner's shirt and grunted. "I call you Grugg."

 

"Er, my name is-"

 

"Grugg, yes?" the ogre interrupted, knowing his name because he just gave it to him.

 

"...yes," Grugg replied, resigned, "What can I do for you Tum?"

 

"Grugg, you do me favor, yeah? Go take this to the village to Damned Iyerna," the huge ogre shoved a package into the newly dubbed Grugg.

 

The human was slowly paling. "The village is miles away," he protested.

 

"Ten minute walk, tops. Sooner if run."

 

"The witches-"

 

"Make excellent soup. Now go, and maybe you get nice hot soup for your trouble. This is a big favor. Thank you, Grugg."

 

The huge ogre, Terrible Tum, pushed him out the door, and he had no idea how to get out of this.

-----------------------------------------------------

A shrill noise from below stopped the King in his tracks. Lifting up one of his boots, a tiny creature with somewhat crumpled, beetle-like wings crawled out on its hands and knees. Quickly, it took flight and flew up to the King's face, chattering at him irately. The comparatively huge hand of the monarch swept it away, and he continued on his way. "Don't land on the floor," he advised it before heading towards the royal apartments. The little creatures were being a nuisance as of late. When the Queen arrived back from a tour of philanthropy, a number of fey, feylings, and occasionally larger kin to the fair folk became sporadic sightings in the Castle and the surrounding city. There was unease at first, but other than sporadic bits of mischief, there wasn't much harm from them, not yet.

 

Whenever something like this happened and the King was uninformed in advance, it left a bit of a sour taste in his mouth. He had an idea of what the Queen was up to though. She was trying to get humans a bit more used to the fair folk and gambling that most of them would be able to control themselves and not fall back on their baser tendencies.

 

Entering his bedroom, he saw the Queen reclining on the bed above the covers. A slight swell had developed on her belly, and the sight of it caused the King's eyes to widen. "Since-" he began, but he cut himself off. The news was amazing to him, but he couldn't let himself get sidetracked, "My love?" he continued in a sweeter tone, ambling over, "We need to have a talk."

-----------------------------------------------------

The princess, Princess Jezebel, paced in her room, adjusting the frills of her lavish dress. Assembled before her were a number of rather important individuals. "We need to consider what to do about this King..." she announced, "... and ensure that the kingdom is ruled justly." Nodding her head, satisfied with the purpose of her mission, she spun around and pointed at the first member of the assembly. "What," she began sharply, "do we do to ensure that we have something to replace him?" She'd replace an institution alright.

 

Who she had pointed at was a poor, shivering hedgehog who came her thinking this was something entirely different. Depose the King?! He shifted his eyes from side to side nervously. "B-b-but, the tea party and... andandand," he stammered looking at everyone else in worry. A few short moments later, he gave up and curled into a ball.

 

The princess sighed, disappointed at her fellow revolutionary's lack of resolve, so she turned to her next attendee. "And... Jeoffery. What is your take on this?" The cat just sent her a dead-eyed stare before going back to licking itself.

 

A sparrow sat on the shoulder of the Princess' younger sibling who had been roped into this madness as well. "Can that cat she's talking too..." it whispered into the young prince's ear.

 

"No," the boy whispered back, "No it can't speak."

-----------------------------------------------------

Grugg, resigned to his new name having learned by this point that the ogres would never call him anyone else, was lent a guard dog to walk him to the nearest village. The "guard dog" was actually a dire hound the size of a pony loping off at a discomfiting speed.It had taken a few tries to get on top of the beast for a quick ride, but it was so barrel-chested that it was much harder than riding any other beast of burden.

 

The village came into sight, and there was a foul-looking green plume of smoke rising up from the center of it. Rolling off the huge dog and nearly twisting his ankle in the process, Grugg tugged on the huge chain wrapped around the dog's neck and led it in with much trepidation. His new taskmasters very casually mentioned that the largest coven of witches this side of Malsonia's tower was in this village, and he very desperately was reconsidering his next move. He could still run away, but every time he decided to deviate his course away from the village, the dog with a maw the size of Grugg's chest would look at him funny and pull him towards their original destination. Something told him the beast was smarter than an ordinary dog, and he had no idea whether or not it would hunt him down should he make a break for it. He did know it would probably do so if he were to run from the mine, so it stood to reason that he'd meet a similar fate here. The nervous human pressed into the village. Hopefully the dire hound would protect him from the witches.

 

"Oooh, you smell nice deary," said a sickeningly sweet voice. Turning around, he saw a stooped old crone with no eyes, not even sockets. The bridge of her nose went all the way up over her brow and to her crown. Even from a few feet away, the stench of rotting meat rolled off of her. Grugg swallowed nervously.

-----------------------------------------------------

"You see any smoke, Murray?"

 

"Nope. I see fog. All I see is fog and grass," came Murray's irritable reply.

 

The two were in a watchtower looking in opposite directions in a simple Motte and Bailey out in the middle of nowhere. Some merchants where blazing a trail off to the ogres and had already passed them with a haul of recently indentured servants taken from the downsized royal prisons. Murray had been a guard at one, but once it had closed, you got carted off to a different part of the army or guard. It was a bit safer away from potentially dangerous prisoners, but it was harder work being all the way out here on "dragon" watch of all things. Was there even a dragon? Stupid peasants with nothing better to do than get worked up over every oddly shaped cloud were going to be an eternal thorn in the army's side.

 

Murray peered down over the thick wooden walls raised up on the motte at the camp, which he could barely make out with all this damn fog. The camp inside was pretty bare bones. Most of the occupants were sleeping in canvas tents, and the only permanent buildings were being used for supply and logistics. Watch duty was dull, but at least he wasn't down there reorganizing the crates again.

 

"Uh, Murray?" his fellow soldier said.

 

Damn this fog, it was getting thicker. Soon he wouldn't be able to see his own nose, and watch would be pointless. Good thing he brought a deck of cards.

 

"Murray..."

 

Murray remained distracted, thinking about why this fort was stuck out here... The King probably knew about the new trade route! The bastard. Dragon duty his left foot...

 

Finally, Murray's partner grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. Murray sputtered in protest but stopped when he saw a huge silhouette slither by, at least four meters high. "Well that's not good," he said, at a loss.

-----------------------------------------------------

Lying awake, the King was wondering how the Queen had diverted his attention again. He wasn't that distractable was he? Well, she hadn't left; she was next to him. "Why don't you want to keep me in the loop?" he finally said aloud.

 

Turning over, the Queen lifted a hand, shining gently in the night and illuminating her in the relative darkness, and trailed it over the King's chest. "Saying too much changes things. I like to know what I'm doing," she said.

 

"That tells me very little."

 

"I know."

 

"It's a good thing our interests are mutual," the King stated with a hint of bitterness. He softened a bit when he saw the swell of the Queen's belly.

 

She patted him gently. "It's better this way."

 

"At least can you keep the visiting fair folk under control?"

 

"Of course."

 

Malsonia was still better company. At least she could get into plotting. She was a plotter.

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

Backing away from the witch and her disturbing visage, Grugg stayed close to the dire hound that had ferried him to the village. Pulling out the package, he read the horribly blotchy mess scratched onto it and then realized that it was incomprehensible to him. Either it was in a different language, or Tum had the worst handwriting he had ever seen. "Package?" Grugg said after a pause.

 

"Ey?" the old hag said, ambling over to the young man.

 

"I... have a package from the Ogre, Terrible Tum."

 

"Oooooh," the hag said, "Why didn't you say so? Head to the center of town."

 

"Er-yes. Thank you," he replied quickly, pulling on the giant dog to get it trotting. He didn't like being near her. Grugg knew what witches did with young men.

 

In the middle of the little village was a huge number of robed women. Many were old, hags like the one he had met on the way in, but others looked like young men and women albeit either horribly disfigured or as if they were recently deceased. "Package?" he called out, "Package from Terrible Tum?"

 

The entire congregation turned to him.

 

Well damn.

He was mobbed. Grugg pressed his back to the huge dog behind him and was encased by a number of witches, men and women, coming in for a too-close-for-comfort examination of him. They didn't touch him, but not a single one didn't come in for a whiff of the human that wandered into their little community.

 

"Package from Terrible Tum!" he called out again, desperately hoping it would distract them long enough for him to... do something.

 

"I'll take that!" The package was snatched from him. He didn't see by what or who, but it was gone. The witches were still gathered around him and leaning in, bustling around.

 

Looking at the direction he came from, only to see that the crowd had wrapped around to that direction. Instead, he scrambled at the side of the hound who appeared to be growing disconcerted with the witches as well. Finally he gained purchase on the dog's side and managed to hoist himself onto it.

 

A hand grabbed his foot. "Nooo, no, stay. We're having a party," one of them said.

 

Grugg wasn't listening. He pulled on the dog's chain and hoped it would get it going. It did- or at least it was fed up with the crowd too- and soon the dire hound pushed through them and loped off, leaving the slower crowd in the distance quickly. Grugg heaved a sigh of relief, feeling safer than he had before. Hopefully he would never have to go back there again.

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

When the human and hound returned to the mine, one of the Ogres was outside, carrying what looked like a four hundred pound hog over its shoulder. "Oh, back?" it said in broken common, taking the chain of the dire hound from him and picking him up off of the hound and setting him roughly on his feet. "Food time. Go, go."

 

Disoriented, Grugg stumbled down a shaft to a dining area that the ogres had hollowed out of a solid granite wall in the mine shaft. Sometimes he wondered why they needed servants, but it was probably to take care of all the menial things while the ogres did the heavy lifting. Inside, a hardy stew was being slopped out to everyone. The rich smell caused his stomach to rumble. One thing was for sure, hard as they were worked, the ogres kept them fed.

-----------------------------------------------------

"What do you mean the store room is gone?" the commanding officer of the outpost demanded.

 

The grunts were sweating and pointing frantically at the bare foundation left behind where the store room was just... gone. "It's gone, sir, gone!" one said. The garrison stared helplessly at the empty patch.

 

"Where... could it have gone?"

 

"At the risk of sounding stupid-" Everyone turned to the speaker, "... dragon?" That earned him some looks. "I'm just saying. We're on dragon watch. C'mon guys. Dragon."

-----------------------------------------------------

Ever since the crown prince was born, the idea of intermarriage was becoming rather popular. In fact, in the noble and merchant classes, a number of marriages had been announced when a sizable dowry had been brought forth by a handful of the fair folk. Meanwhile, in the more remote edges of the Kingdom, word of the King's unusual choice of a bride and his "heroic rescue" of her that had started circulating was just now cropping up. The tale had finally saturated the entire kingdom.

 

The King noted that it was the lesser families that were being married into. Perhaps the more powerful ones weren't amicable to the idea yet, or maybe wherever the fey were getting the silver and such for their outlandish dowries wasn't plentiful enough to support the lavish tastes the upper crust had. The fair folk had the advantage of beauty, and they were using it.

 

Although one might think it was an aggressive takeover of humanity at first, infiltrating key if minor families, the King was indifferent to the proceedings. Fair folk although difficult to predict were tied to his bloodline now and the Queen had some sort of influence with them; what exactly the King knew not but clearly significant. It was natural that the Fair Folk took the easiest route to ensuring their survival nonetheless. They could not be faulted for that.

Now, the foul folk would have a much more difficult time at it. It was generally unknown whether or not they were interfetile with humans, but most were huge and brawny, taking an adventurous man indeed to take that particular plunge. But now, a prominent ogreclan had wealth, a kind of wealth that humans coveted in the form of a surprisingly deep mine. Malsonia knew what to do, and had applauded his idea. The ogres just needed a list of eligible ladies and if they were to marry off one of the many brothers, they could take their pick should they offer the right dowry. Most young noble girls were raised to be married off. What could go wrong?

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

"You want me to marry who?" Princess Jezebel asked in shock.

-------------------------------------------------------

The second smallest of the ogre clan, Brunhilde, clopped Grugg on the back of the head, sending him stumbling. "Oi, Tum want you," she said gruffly. While the poor, fragile man was tenderly touching the goose egg growing on the back of his head, she roughly shoved him towards the eldest's "office."

 

"I'm going; I'm going," he said hurriedly, staggering off. It wasn't far from here. He hoped it wasn't another suicide mission that the ogre kept handing off to him. Rounding through the huge, cavernous doorway, he found Tum sitting in a chair cared from the stump of an ancient oak tree covered in furs. In the few months since this operation began, the titanic strength of the ogres and a few trolls and the like who had come looking for work had done more with human tools than one might otherwise expect. The intentured servants played canary and did all the work that didn't require the natural power of the foul folk. They got to focus on mining, what really earned them money. It was a surprisingly smooth operation.

 

"Ah, Grugg, welcome, welcome," Terrible Tum beckonned the human in. He sat him in a chair much to big for him and not nearly as nice as the ogre's before seating himself. Tum smiled and cordially inquired, "And how are you liking the job eh? Worth the food?"

 

Not wanting to insult the ogre- the food was much heartier than stale bread and water though- Grugg nodded enthusiastically.

 

"Good good, but tell me," he paused, scratching the huge, vine-like cords of braded hair growing from his jaw, "What you think of Brunhilde?"

 

What? What was the ogre getting at. "Pardon," the confused man said.

 

"Brunhilde, she's been making eyes at you, eh?"

 

Grugg could only think of the burning pain on the back of his noggin. Did Tum know what he was talking about. "Is that... so?"

 

"Oh yes," Tum said happily, "What you think?"

A slow dread was building inside of him. "She's... a piece of work," Grugg said somewhat awkwardly, "What do you make of it?"

 

"Well," the big ogre said slapping his leg and leaning forward over the table. "We ogres have marriage like you humies, yeah? If she like, and you like, then no problem, eh?" Tum didn't seem to notice how the human across from him had begun to sweat.

 

What was the man supposed to say? No and insult the creature who held sway over his workload and in all actuality his life or get trapped with the ogress that was knocking him around constantly?

 

"Of course, we canna keep you in pits should you marry. No place for a married man. Closer up here."

 

What was he supposed to say?

-----------------------------------------------------

Jezebel sat in the carriage, looking entirely displeased with her current predicament. Her first two escape attempts had been stopped by some rather annoyed guardians employed by her family who were sent to chaperon her. She was in the process of sulking, not quite happy with her lack of success. How were you supposed to stage a coup when everything stood in their way? Did you have to be evil like the King to topple everything and establish a new order?

 

"I-I-I'm sorry Princess," the nervous hedgehog said, "I'd love to help, but I c-can't do much. I'm so small." At the very least, she had the less than helpful hedgehog, Wilhelm. "I got L-lenny to tell the rest of your f-f-friends though. He's a fast flier." Lenny the sparrow was always a skeptic, as all birds were, but he wasn't nearly as suspicious as your average chicken. You had a hard time convincing them of anything. Lenny though was at least good at passing messages from person to person. He had a few pigeon friends who could spread messages like no other.

 

"Hmmph, size doesn't matter," the noble girl proclaimed, "Those guards outside are each twice my weight"

 

Wilhelm muttered something under his breath, "And you're still here."

 

"What was that?"

 

"Nothing, m'Lady."

 

Jezebel crossed her arms and kicked her legs across and propped them up on the other side of the carriage. The hedgehog shivered, not liking the atmosphere.

 

"Actually, there is something you can do."

 

"M-m-meeee?"

-----------------------------------------------------

At the fort, men were scrambling to reorganize logistics and slim down rations. Word was being sent out to the nearest town, but it would be a long time before word got back. They could forage for now, but it would be tough going.

 

"I see a convoy! Looks like an escort," Murray called down from the watch tower.

 

"What?!" someone shouted back from below. Work slowed.

 

"Looks like a nob. What we gonna do?"

 

The commanding officer grit his teeth. They couldn't afford to pander to some snobbish upper class whelp, nor could they afford the backlash from turning them away. Damned if they do; damned if they don't. "Bring them in," the CO said. The men at the gates slowly pushed the gate open.

 

A shadow passed overhead. "Bloody, buggering-"

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

"Got it?"

 

"Y-yes, princess," Wilhelm said, adjusting his tiny neckerchief around his neck, "I'm going."

 

And now she waited.

-----------------------------------------------------

"So..." one of the guardsman a part of the escort began, "Do you think the Ogres are going to be civil?"

 

"Eh, the Dark Lady Malsonia has been surprisingly cooperative with the King. They more or less are her subjects," another grunt postulated, "Can't imagine she'd be too happy with them if they gave the King a reason to be terse with her."

 

"Terse? That what you call it? I hear he got terse with the previous royal family." Forced, social laughter followed their commander's terrible joke.

 

"Poor girl though," one of the younger ones said, likely fresh out of his apprenticeship, "Ugly thing she'll be stuck with."

 

"Ugly, rich thing. Five wagons of silver for a dowry? Could have had someone a bit higher up the ladder for that."

 

"Ain't she in line for the throne?"

 

"Yeah, like... tenth... or nineteenth. Something. Not much power other than that."

 

"Gates opening up, quiet gents."

 

The crack between the double-doors widened as they approached. Just as they finished sobering up, one of the horses whinnied loudly and reared up, spooking the other one drawing the carriage and sending them into a scare. The men all piled onto the beasts and attempted to steady them. Meanwhile, Jezebel scurried out of the carriage and jetted off.