An Unexpected Turn Of Events (High Fantasy, Pazzo and Erosin)

[Pazzo]

Candles guttered along the cold, unforgiving stone walls of the cellar as what appeared to be an attractive young woman dressed in a low cut blouse and dress, padded her way along its length with her bare, surprisingly clean and well manicured feet. The wooden roof creaked here and there, as the castle settled and cooled during the chill night. The woman had an uncanny grace to her, her toned body moving with a liquid flow that one might think of a professional dancer.

Her glossy long black hair was combed straight, and done up with a plain handkerchief. Her keen elven ears could hear the heavy breathing of the man who though he was hiding just up ahead, and could likewise smell the oil used to maintain his studded leather armor. He movements suddenly became a little more clumsy, her graceful, purposed moves turning a little more erratic.

She had to put on a good show after all. Had to make it look good for the mistress. Her predatory instincts felt the urge to silently creep up upon the hapless would be hunter from the other side of the pillar, and sink her twin blades deep within his back at an upward angle, severing his diaphragm, and robbing him of his ability to scream. She could then capture his soul, and trade it for favors from someone far more desirable.

Regardless, she played her part. She gasped and jumped when he embraced her from behind, making a big show of being surprised. The Duke of Mindenhall was predictable if nothing else. "Ah, and where is this lovely barmaid going at such a late hour?" he asked in his rich, baritone voice. He was an attractive moron, if nothing else.

"My lord, someone might see…" She breathed, feeling the warmth of his breath upon her bare neck, the roughness of his stubble as his lips caressed her neck, tracing their way up to her ear. If only he was as good at hiding. She willingly let his powerful hands grope at her toned body, actually giving a genuine moan. "...The queen, she requested a bottle of wine, and she wanted it yesterday." She said, as she felt his surprisingly nimble fingers feel their way under her blouse, running the pads of his rough, warm fingers across her stiffening nipples.

"I won't be but a minute." He murmured, hungrily pressing himself into her generous elven rear end, pinning her to the wall. Damn the Queen and her urgency. This actually felt somewhat enjoyable. Human men were fun, but nothing more. They only lived barely a century, short enough to be disposable. Ava spun around, and used her own well manicured hand to grip the sizable, thick bulge behind his trousers. A grunt escaped his lips, as she turned the tide upon him, just the way he liked it.

She then pinned him to the wall, pressing her generous chest into his, as her other hand made its way to his neck, holding him there, as her fingers caressed the throbbing manhood, separated by only a few thin layers of fabric. She brought her glistening full lips in close, and parted them. Her impossibly long elven tongue slithered forth, a pair of metallic in line barbells piercing it. She lightly dragged them across the skin of his neck, growling lightly as she rose up to his ear.

"I want you in my chambers Lord Mindenhall. Yesterday. Be naked, and upon the bed when I get there." She breathed, squeezing his bulge for good effect, as the metallic tongue piercings clinked teasingly upon her teeth. "I shall attend to this hunger of yours after I sate the queen's thirst for her preferred vintage. Now go." She said in a voice that was a touch deeper, with a hint of command to it.

The nobleman gasped a little, but grinned, and nodded, as his hips slid too and fro, fucking the elf maid's hand a little. She sadistically took it away, teasing him just a little. She gave him a sly wink, as he quickly trotted down the hallways to the staircase, to reach the upper levels.

Perhaps she would entertain him. Perhaps she would deny him. He might even die tonight, or something much worse. It didn't matter, as almost every human man was exactly the same. The one she had been tasked to gather information on however, that one could prove interesting. She turned away, and made her way to the wine room door, her keen nose already picking out the sickly sweet, musty aroma of the full wine barrels contained within.

She entered the cavernous, dark room, her elven eyes shifting into the infrared spectrum almost immediately. The room took on a shade of deep blues, violets, and indigos in the cool air, with a faint smattering of reds and oranges that scurried this way and that. She crept quietly along the barrels, until she came to the specified place. A barrel was there, with a rag draped over it. With one graceful movement of her arm, it was cast aside, to reveal a gorgeous, silver framed black hand mirror.

The dark haired maiden lifted it in her hands, and whispered a few words to it. "My queen." She breathed into its jet black polished surface. "I have returned, and have things to discuss about that wizard you have taken an interest in."

She then patiently waited for the mirror to whisper back to her, in the voice of her employer.

 

[erosin]

"Mercy, my queen - please have mercy," wailed the handmaiden knelt nude, legs spread to expose her pink womanhood, in the queen's bedchamber. The fierce snap of leather against skin reverberated throughout the ivory walls, rippled by the cries of the handmaid. She was a plain woman, with mousy hair and soft features - a soft belly, small breasts, and plump thighs, now marred with crimson welts. "Please, no more. I beg you," pleaded the woman in a quivering voice.

Azalea merely glanced at the scene, pale eyes glazed with boredom as she watched the other handmaiden - a woman with dark hair tucked neatly into a bun - cracked the whip again. The dark haired woman appeared equally pained as her victim. The two were lovers, Azalea thought, though she wondered if their feelings would survive the evening.

The queen, of course, had no mercy. "Perhaps," she lounged in her chaise, one leg crossed over the other. Relief flickered briefly over the angular features of the dark haired woman, - she'd never bothered to learn the names of her servants - only to fall when Azalea continued, coldly, "you will be careful to avoid spilling my tea next time." It had been merely a drop on the saucer. The rest, Azalea had poured on the floor, only to have the mousy one lap it up with her tongue. "20 more lashes," she waved her command off as she turned back to her vanity, "for speaking out of turn."

Which of the handmaidens sobbed, Azalea couldn't have been certain. She had turned her back to the display, having already lost interest.

There was something more interesting awaiting Azalea: if only her woman would hurry. As it were, the ornate mirror secured to her vanity reflected only an obsidian reflection of her delicate features. Though Azalea had only been waiting a short time, even a few minutes' tardiness was cause for discipline; the elf had better have something of interest to share, or risk invoking Azalea's wrath.

When the mirror finally whispered to her, Azalea sat up, the muted turquoise of her silk robe gliding across her skin as her back straightened. "You're late," she snapped, "speak, then, so I might assess the value of your information," another crack echoed through the chamber like thunder, "perhaps if you offer something of value, I'll forgive your tardiness."

 

[Pazzo]

Ava bit her lower lip, a mixture of rage and frustration in dealing with this woman. She could hear the whip cracks through the connection, which mildly aroused her. Ava also marveled at making a woman's lover, someone who cared for her most deeply, administer the punishment, how deliciously sadistic.

She would almost be impressed if she was not on the wrong end of this entitled little bitch's demands and ire. Still, the money that was paid to the organization was good. Ava had a reputation for quality and skill, and as much as she would love to slide a length of steel into the Queen's throat, there was no money in it. It was all about the paycheck, and reputation earned. She would however be glad to be done with this task, and be somewhere else. Whatever the queen had planned for the wizard, she didn't want to be around to be part of it.

"Ahem." She murmured, as she readied herself. "The wizard's territory encompasses three hundred acres even, quite small compared to your lavish kingdom." She whispered into the queen's ear, with a borderline seductive tone. "It's framed between two rivers that run along each boundary from the mountains to the north. Then then empty out into a small lake, which then outflows into the ocean, along your Eastern Border." She continued, as she waved her hand, bringing up an image she had made, a fairly beautiful map of the area.

"For structures, he has what looks like a humble farm consisting of a single room cottage made of indigenous stone. He has two barns, and various pens where he keeps his ducks, cassowaries, and his one single bovine, possibly an Ox or a Yak." She murmured.

"It's effectively defenseless, aside from the wizard himself, and whatever magic he has in his possession." She then bit her lip again, wondering what to say next. "There are a few isolated brass golems roaming the area, but they do little more than tend to the plants, trees, and flowers in the area. I was able to walk up and touch them, with no ill effects."

"He lives more like a hermit that one would expect a powerful retired mercenary would." She finished.

"As for the ore deposits you are after, they all appear to be intact, the wizard has no mining operations setup whatsoever."

 

[erosin]

Whatever faults she may have had, Azalea was an attentive audience. Her eyes drank in the details, few as they were, of the map as it appeared on the mirror. "Not so mighty after all," she mused with a chuckle.

For centuries, Alamgir had been a conquering Kingdom, passed through the hands of the royal family. The leaders of Alamgir were known as brilliant tacticians and ruthless conquerors. That reputation had been stifled briefly by the rule of Azalea's father, the Good King Alder, who had been known to be both kind and wise, if not indulgent of his surviving heir. Though Alamgir had flourished under King Alder's rule, his successor saw his kindness as weakness, for several of Alamgir's conquered territories had been relinquished to the kingdoms they had originally belonged to. Azalea had high hopes of restoring Alamgir to its former glory.

"Why, dear Ava, you were set about a task and I believe you have delivered," Azalea decided, "you see, ladies?" the queen's attention shifted briefly to the handmaidens, "this is what competence looks like. You would do well to remember." The sultry elf had clearly earned her way back into Azalea's good graces with but a few words. "I will see to it that your services are rewarded. I suspect I will be in need of them again shortly. Have a copy of the map delivered to my generals immediately. Enjoy your evening, love."

With that, Azalea brought the conversation to a close, turning the mirror so the reflective size faced outwards. Her attention turned once more to her handmaidens. They ought to have finished their exercise, she thought. "You," she gestured toward the mousy one, whose eyes were puffy with tears. The woman jumped when she was called upon, but nonetheless bowed her head in a show of obedience, "see to it my Generals are informed: we meet at first light.

And you," she gestured this time toward the dark haired one, "my evening tea. And do take care not to spill."

The dark haired one immediately got to work, but the other, "what are you doing?" Azalea questioned as the mousy one began to dress.

"I-" the poor girl peeped, only to be cut off by the queen.

"I did not say you could dress. Let all be witness to your shame. You will not be so careless next time." Azalea delighted in the pain that tainted the young woman's features, the humiliation it caused her.

The mousy woman trembled as she stood, "Yes, milady," and hurried off, shyly covering her womanhood and breasts with her hands.

As the women departed, Azalea lounged back in her chaise once more. Tonight, she would relax, for, come morning, she had an invasion to plan.

 

[Pazzo]

The beautiful elven spy just shook her head dismissively, and grunted, despite the Queen's praise. She placed the mirror back upon the barrel, and covered it with the dingy cloth. Lord Mindenhall would have to sleep alone tonight.

A full scale invasion? For just a few deposits of ore? Was she insane? The spy breathed in annoyance, and she tucked the map back into her bodice, and left the cellar with a rustle of her low cut top.

***************
A few days later:

In small one acre field, a handsome man with long ashen hair stood holding a large burlap sack, filled with grain. Around him were several huge birds with black feathered bodies, and blue heads with bony crests, mounted upon long necks. The walked around slowly, as they made ultra deep thrumming noises. The wizard reached into the sack, and withdrew a handful of white grapes, which he the offered to the nearest bird. It approached slowly, and gently took a few, as did a few of the others.

Nearby, a huge all white yak lumbered closer, her bright fur combed straight and neatly trimmed. Brightly colored cloth scarves were tied around her neck. She walked a little closer, and mooed at the Wizard. He just shook his head, and chuckled. "I thought you were a Yak, not a cow." He murmured, as she nudged the sack with her nose. "Yaks don't moo, they grunt." He chided her, in his baritone voice. Alastair reached into the sack, and offered her some grapes, which she eagerly took from his hand, and chewed.

The cassowaries flinched a little, as the fluttering wings of a medium sized bird grew louder. A large black crow, his neck framed in white, landed upon the wizards shoulder, and started chattering away. Alastair's gray eyes grew a little wider. "Huh?" He muttered, and the crow continued, and then fluttered off.

Three hundred acres was not so huge for a farm, but more than Alistair had asked for a few years ago, in exchange for a contract done at the King of Alamgir's request. By rule of treaty, it was supposed to be his forever. And for whatever reason, his troublesome daughter was looking to violate that treaty.

The wizard turned his head to the small cottage, and called out a name. "Humphrey!" He yelled. "Those battle golems that we put into storage! How many of them are ready?!" Alastair then dumped the bag of grapes on the ground as he looked to the west, and tossed the bag aside. The birds and yak alike gobbled the fallen grapes as quickly as they could.

A few moments later, a grapefruit sized brass ball covered in gears rolled out of the cottage, and up to the wizard along the grass. Once at his feet, it popped open into a small humanoid shape, with large eyes that looked like glasses. "Um, yessir." It said politely is a metallic, brassy voice. "Of the golems that we recovered, four of them are fully restored and ready for deployment." The tiny brass clockwork creature murmured. "Two Butchers, and Two Hellfires." He said, looking at his tiny notepad, flipping through the tattered pages quickly. "Two more could be deployed, another hellfire with slight damage to its left arm, and another Hellfire with substantial damage to its left leg, and only half of its weapons operational."

The wizard swore under his breath. "Give me an estimated chance of success, fighting on the west bank against ten or so thousand soldiers, supported by a handful of rock trolls."
The small, bowling ball like creature's eyes lit up with flashing displays fluttering around as it chattered away at its calculations. After a few seconds it stopped. "Umm, If you take your Staff of Deathsong with you, It's reasonable to assume a sixty seven and a half percent chance you could defeat said force, with the loss of only the butcher golems."

Alastair just shook his head, and reached out to the cottage. A long, gnarled black staff made from polished obsidian flew out from the cottage's nearest window at the wizard, he caught it deftly with his left hand. "Alright, send the four good ones to the west river crossing immediately. Bring the other two here to defend the cottage, in reserve" he murmured with a hint of acid in his voice.

Humphrey's eyes flashed, as he closed back up into a ball, and rolled away. The wizard them murmured a few words, and he began to float upwards into the air. He rose up, then back, and flipped around to fly forwards as great speed, kicking up leaves and twigs from the ground in his wake.

A few moments later, he could hear the murmuring of a huge force of men, along with the clattering and clanking of their weapons and armor. They had just started to reach the far bank of the small western stream. It flowed swiftly, with white water cresting over several of the jagged rocks jutting up from it's surface. He landed softly upon the surface of the bank opposite of them, with the army of rough looking warrior not noticing him yet.

A few of them were trying to wade across the river, with their weapons drawn. The faltered for a minute, as the ground shook violently, with deep rumbling being heard all around. Just behind the wizard, huge metallic drills thrust up into the air, throwing out huge plumes of dust and steam. The Hellfire golems emerged from their burrowing en-casements first, towering over the army at forty feet high. Made of brass and iron, the metallic giants were a sight to behold, drawing the awe of the assembled army before him, stopping them dead in their tracks.

In place of their arms, where paired rings of long, engraved barrels, six each in a spinning configuration. With a great hiss of their steam fired actuators, the Hellfire units leveled their massive rotary black powder auto cannons at the assembled force, but did not fire. They simply waited, as the stacks upon their backs started to belch out black clouds of smoke, as their coal engines fired up.

The wizard stood still between them, as the Butchers emerged next. These constructs were almost identical to the Hellfire's, only instead of autocannons, their arms were covered in a multitude of wicked looking blades and stabbing weapons. Their stacks likewise lit up, shooting forth fire into the air, before lumbering into position next to the Wizards flanks, lower on the bank.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the air, as then tension built, so thick one could almost choke on it. The wizard broke it first, holding his black staff tightly.

"Gentlemen!" He called out to them, magically making his voice louder so all could hear. "How nice of you to pay me a visit! Tell me, what is the occasion? I get visitors ever so rarely." He then brought his free hand up into the air, as rocks from the river lifted up, forming a makeshift narrow bridge across the middle. The soldiers hesitated.

The wizards eyes narrowed, as he murmured under his breath. "Alright, lets try diplomacy first." He whispered, as he mentally willed the rocks to craft a makeshift table, and two chairs in the center of the bridge. Alastair quickly approached the table without pause, and waved his hands. Two goblets appeared, nect to a wicker woven green glass bottle of wine. Next to it was a basket, filled with warm rolls. He then looked up to the army that lined the far bank of his river, and called out. "I seek an audience with your commander. Send him here please." The wizard then grit his teeth, and waited, hearing the comforting, deep thrumm of the huge brass giant's steam engines running behind him.

 

[erosin]

Within a week, they marched.

No one wanted war. Azalea alone craved what she saw as the destiny of Alamgir: to conquer the continent and seize control over its citizens.

But the people of Alamgir were tired - tired of generations of fighting, of loss, grief and instability. Only two years dead, King Alder was still remembered fondly by his subjects, for they had known peace under his rule. The twin princes Avar and Avan had followed in his footsteps. For the first time in many centuries, the people of Alamgir held hope for long-lasting peace. Then a series of misfortunes befell the royal family. Avar was the first to pass; later, Avan. Grief overtook King Alder, and within a few years of the twins' deaths, illness took the king. Behind it all was Azalea, who was not as clever so much as she had been trusted by a family who'd adored her. As the Kingdom had mourned, Azalea stepped up to the throne, cleared for her through convenient circumstance.

General Feyza was tired, too. Under King Alder, their cunning had been put to use to broker peace and preserve the safety of the people. They had known King Alder to be kind, wise, and even fatherly toward those who served him. By contrast, Queen Azalea was foolish and cruel: Feyza wasn't sure which of these qualities was worse. Feyza had advised against an invasion, for an agreement may have been possible with the wizard between the woods, who Feyza believed wanted only to be left alone. Queen Azalea had accused them of cowardice, threatened to have them stripped of their armour and marched in the nude. Disappointed as they were, they swallowed their tongue and gave the best counsel they could land scarcely worth more than the table they worked over.

Still having the queen's ire the next day, it was General Feyza who took the lead, putting them at considerable risk unbefitting their rank. King Alder would have joined Feyza, offering peace and partnership; Queen Azalea was at least a league back, lounging comfortably on her palanquin while others fought her foolish war. Their armour, suffocating and hot beneath the sun, rattled as they waded through the water, flanked by warriors (not guardians, as they'd suggested) equipped with broad axes.

Feyza had just reached the bank when the rattling began. "Get down!" they shouted to the warriors, many of whom were too far to hear. Some lost their footing, and were swept away by the current, their cries lost beneath the roar of shifting earth. This had been a bad idea. Had Queen Azalea cared to listen, she would have learned the power the wizard commanded. As it were, Feyza wasn't confident this was a battle they could win, and on the front lines they weren't even well positioned to preserve as much life as possible. But their bitter reflections fell away to adrenaline as the golems emerged, forcing them to retreat back to the opposite bank. Warriors as they were, the sight of the golems stopped the soldiers in their tracks: they knew if they attacked now, they would be slaughtered. Whoever had the misfortune of standing on the front lines before the queen knew they were at war.

It was a mercy that the wizard wasn't bloodthirsty. The queen, however, was. As the bridge extended, General Feyza saw only a small hope. What they could accomplish, they were uncertain. Still, they stepped onto the bridge, taking deep breaths to soothe their racing heart. "I'll do you one better, Sir Wizard," they removed their helmet as approached, their dark, salt speckled hair contained in a loose bun. Age dragged faint lines where their features would have crinkled in joy in gentler times, and their icy blue eyes had a weariness to them that communicated enough of their weariness. "General Feyza," they introduced, then cast over their shoulder, "You, scout, inform the queen we have an audience. Mud like, if you catch my drift." With a nod, the scout walked, not ran, in the general direction of the queen.

Now that they had a moment, the General turned their full direction to the wizard, and tried not to think about the golems towering overhead. The gravity of what they were about to say, and its implications, weight heavy on their chest. "I'll give it to you straight. Queen Azalea of Alamgir wants your land. The rare ore embedded in it, more specifically, but she will not settle for that alone. She would have your land turned to a mine, and you, her prize, paraded through the streets, and worse. She would allow every soldier here to die for this tiny conquest. I would not." A murmur rippled around them as the warriors bristled - but if any were in disagreement, they didn't attack. "Tell me: how would you see this end?" Would the wizard let Feyza's people die to a stupid little girl's vanity?

 

[Pazzo]

The wizard's gray eyes hardened as an impressive looking armored figure approached him, wary. The figure approached with its armored hands held out, empty, in a non threatening gesture. His eyes then widened as the armored knight identified themselves as a momentous figure who's exploits were well known throughout the lands.

He listened to them in their contralto voice, not able to discern if they were male, or female, but perhaps they were neither or even both. Such was the nature of a magical world, where anything is possible. Regardless, the general seemed fully aware of the situation, and was not one to rush to violence. They were level headed and fair, holding true to the stories he had heard of the legendary general Feyza.

The wizard looked at the wall of soldiers on the bank of the river, glancing to him and their general, and then to his golems on the opposite bank. Alastair shook his head and closed his eyes. He would have easily brokered a deal with the kingdom for the ore in the mines, as it was of no use to him anyway. But the sole surviving heir of Alder wasn't interested in fairness and deals, she was only interested in power. In the mere two years since she had seized power, she had done nothing but abuse it. No one wanted a fight, but no one wanted to disobey their monarch either.

Disobey their monarch. The wizard thought on this a little, wondering. What could make an entire kingdom blindly follow the foolish orders of an insane monarch? Feyza easily had enough men to overpower one woman, as this attack was an outright violation of the treaty he had with the kingdom. Maybe that was her aim, to try and subjugate her powerful neighbor, as a warning to the rest of the world. "This is what happens to those who stand against me."

The wizard looked back up to Feyza, and then over their shoulder, towards the middle of the force, where Azelia was likely hidden. In response to their question about how things would play out, Alastair said the following: "I would not see the brave soldiers under you command be slaughtered needlessly, but at the same time I will not suffer an invasion of my lands." he said, low and deep, so only Feyza could hear him.

"Tell me about this daughter of Alder, and why no one has stood up to her. Surely you have tried to resist her foolhardy orders?"

 

[erosin]

That they were not slaughtered on the spot was promising. As the wizard scanned the force that had been sent to meet him, so too did Feyza analyze him. Thus far, words aligned with action; had the wizard a desire for needless death, they would have been dead already. "As one would expect," Feyza acknowledged with a nod. The king had understood that, had never ordered needless sacrifice as azalea did.

"Our lady, for all her flaws, remains the last true descendent of the throne," replied Feyza, "the last of the Alamgir bloodline. Those of us who dare have tried to serve, to advise, alas," they spread their arms to gesture back at the army behind them, "a conqueror sees peace as a weakness. You know as well as I the long and bloody history of Alamgir. There are some who take pride in, many of whom our lady has surrounded herself with. Those who disobey..."

Feyza glanced over their shoulder, as if to ensure the queen herself was not watching over their shoulder, "do you know how the old rulers of Alamgir commanded unfaltering loyalty? Their crown is more than a word," they tapped their temple, "the Alamgir crown has been passed down generations, and yet its magic has not withered. No creature can withstand the will of an Alamgir who wears the crown of their ancestors."

The smile that followed was apologetic, "I do not mean to be cryptic. I have seen the crown in action, but its origins, its power... you can imagine how closely the truth is guarded. I ask you again: if not with slaughter, how would you see this end?"

 

[Pazzo]

The wizard listened to the general speak of the royal crown. He narrowed his eyes as he though of Alder, and had no memory of him ever wearing such a crown. But then again it was also quite likely that Alder would rather have led people, rather than outright dominate them in ways they had no manner of resisting.

Alastair was well versed in the arcane to be sure, and magics that could be rather persuasive were not unknown to him. He had defenses against such things, But what Feyza spoke of made him think otherwise. If she was able to command an army of this size to its own slaughter, he might have to be careful. It might be easier to just get the crown off of her head right?

He reached into the small, enchanted leather pouch at his waist in an offhand manner. He felt around inside of it as he looked off to the side at the river flowing beneath them. He felt something within the pouch wrestle itself into his hand, nestling into it. The wizard then grinned. His eyes flashed, as he looked back to the general.

"I can only assume that the queen came with you, to be able to see her mighty army take on a wizard who stands in her way?" He mused, "However, I can only assume she is hiding behind these columns and ranks." He brought his hand out of the pouch, and nodded. "I would see this end with me discussing things directly with the Queen of Alagir, face-to face. Take me to her."