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Sir Richard Gearheart glanced about the wonderfully decorated and exceptionally well lit castle. The aura simply overtook him; the smell, the sight, and the sound all together created a feeling of magic that was so intense it seemed as if real magic was being used. The Duke, whose palace it was, had many magician's, wizard's, and necromancer's under his employment. So if it was being employed to make this important night seem all the more important, that would not shock Sir Richard. He walked slowly from the foyer into the main hall; passing statues, paintings, mockeries, and mindeye's of famous relatives of the Duke Marshall's. He had many of them. General's, Captains, Knights, Dukes, King's and Queens even, the whole lot of his family was famous, or infamous - there also was a darker side to the Marshall's, as everyone knew.
"Good evening Sir Richard," It was Pouncey, the only face that had never changed at the Marshall's residence, he being their head serviceman, and very good at 'changing with the flow' which meant among the Marshall's, keeping your neck as one side of the family got upset with the other.
"Evening Pouncey, is the Duke expecting me?"
"Of course, he was expecting you last night."
Richard grimaced, he had expected to be here last night, but alas, women had a mind of their own. Especially his youngest daughter, Alyna. "I was delayed, unfortunately, my daughter-"
"Yes yes, it's of no concern. The Duke desires to see you now."
While Richard had not bothered to show his pain upon being expected the night before, he forced himself to hide his surprise at being desired. He had not hoped for nearly so much enthusiasm from the Duke for his presence. "Please, if you'd be so kind to take me directly to him."
"But you have only just arrived, if you wish to eat or drink..."
"Do not be silly Pouncey, I will drink at the Duke's leisure. Lead on!"
"As you wish... Please, follow me Sir Richard."
The reason for Richard's surprise was the reason for his visit in the first place, he had proposed with very little hope of positive response, to be made the Sheriff of the Court and the land. Something the Duke had much power and control over; it was a coveted position often used to make loads of dirty money and plenty of trouble amongst the nobles. Generally it was considered to be a good Sheriffery if you did exactly that, and managed to not piss of the poorer classes as long as you could. The last Sheriff had not managed that, in fact he managed to get murdered by a mob in only a week. Richard had suggested his own name, when receiving the letter of nominations from the Duke. It had been meant for him to cast someone he knew into the mix, or support many of the popular figures that were sure to be nominated. He was still not quite sure why he had done it, but perhaps it was his nobler side. Both his mother, and late wife had told him that he was too noble and too soft. One day someone would hurt him because of it. Yet, he'd become a squire, a knight, and something of local gentry during his younger years. Now, in his late thirties, he still looked to be in his young twenties, had the wisdom of fifties, and wits of a Wizard. Or so a Wizard had once told him, with a quizzical smirk.
Just as he stepped into the Duke's sitting room, he remembered the Wizard, and the reason for casting his own name. "That bastard!" He hissed under his breath, only it was only his breath that he whispered under. Everything and everyone else was silent.
"Haahaahaa, he's got ye dead ta right's johnny boyle!" The Duke's raucous laugh exploded in the center of the room, as he slammed his hand into the massive man's back who was standing at his side. His bastard brother, Johnny. Commonly known as The Reaper, and not for his farming skills. "C'mon in Sir Gerryheart, or Gartheart, or whatever the bloody hell yer fookin name is!" The massively round Duke gave Richard a powerful hug. Richard tucked his curly hair back behind his ear, and kept his eyes low, and away from the Duke's massive gut.
"Your highness," He said in a low, but still powerful voice. Few people did not take notice of his voice, and fewer still ignored it on purpose. The Duke, surprisingly, was not one of these people. As he apparently sobered up, on the spot.
"We've got business," He said in an equally important and hushed voice. He waved the others off, and used a hand upon Richard's shoulder to guide him into a side chamber.
"I want ye ta be my new Sheriff Sir Gearheart. I want ye ta run this land right, and make'r prosperous agin. We've had too many bad people makin bad moves, and wars commin. I can feel it in me bones. We're gonna need money, and fast... The only way to do that, is get rid of all the politics and magik tricks, the religious nutsos too. Whatever you need ta do ta let the common people make money, an make me money, ya hear?"
"Yes, your highness."
"Goot, and first things first, once yer sheriff, no more of this highness shit. You answer to me, God, and the King only. You'll call me by my name, God his, and reserve yer majesties and holinesses fer that King. My once dear-cousin, fookin rat bastard..." The Duke spit a large glob of... Something, into the grass. "Ya hear me? Look Richard. I ain't the cleanest snob, or the smartest, or the most loyal, but I know how ta make money, and I know ta make money, the people gotta be makin money. Makin it, and keeping some of it, but spendin most of it."
"I understand... Sir Brylan. I'll get to work on the crooks first, the real obvious ones, but sir... I will need your permission to arrest some of... Well,-"
"My men?" The Duke smirked, "I knew you'd say that, but yes. If you can catch them, by all means, arrest them. I'll keep them locked up until the war begins."
"If i can catch them, sir?"
"I'm sendin most of'em to Argentin. Ta fight, they'll make me some good money..."
"Very well, sir... Is that all?"
"Yes! No! No!" The Duke tapped his skull with a finger, and tried to remember. "Oh yes, you will have two prisoners to content with right away, they are political prisoners, the first is my cousin, yes. The King's wife, and the second is a man from Bornio I believe. The uncouth city/state to the south, he is of little importance but worth more alive than dead, a fraction of such, and I count fractions. So... Yes, well very good. They are being transported to the Sheriff's castle in Santuil. Your predecessors were quite... Rich men, for their position, and you've inherited whatever the mob's did not loot. Haha! Good luck my friend."
Richard walked into the night. Stunned. Prisoners? Sheriff? Mobs? Money?
Magicians!
He kicked a pebble. That was why he was here, that devious, prickly, sneaking, ill-spoken, little, pestering, ugly, laughing old man. Somehow that Wizard had convinced him, convinced him to just send his letter, to try, and of course magic had been occurring at this house. Real magic. The Wizard had been here somewhere making sure he'd gotten the job, there was no other real way for him to land such a position. He was too... Noble... Just... Prideful, and arrogant is what Richard thought it was. Lawful. That was what the Wizard had said. What the Duke said made little sense, money? By making the poor wealthy? Everyone knew when the rich got rich, the poor got poorer. That was just life...
"Bloody Magicians..." Richard mumbled, as he stepped into his carriage.
~
Landan Mangini rubbed his hands together slowly. They were sweaty, because he was nervous, but he rubbed them slowly to show he was only ridding them of sweat. Not because he was nervous. A placid calm was painted upon his face, betrayed easily by his dashing blue eyes which were as wary as a rabbits being chased by a hawk. He was a magician, a captured magician in an enemy's land. Why he had not been killed, tortured, and drained of all his power already he could not fathom. Perhaps nobody thought he was a magician? He'd considered the possibility, but then why would he be in a box made from Voided wood. Or Wood of the Void, from the forest of the Void. The only place in the world were magic did not work. Still, perhaps they had gotten lucky and stuck him in one of the ridiculously expensive boxes? Colored bright orange, no less. If not by chance, then why in the stars above was he not dead?
The box shifted, and suddenly he was dumped onto a hard marble floor. Black marble, not orange. Frowning, Landan struggled to look up he. He saw an impressive man; well muscled with a strong jaw, a body that proclaimed him to be young, but steely red eyes that told otherwise.
"Where am I?" Asked the magician.
"You are in the house Sir Gearheart, in the land of Ossarriia, you are his prisoner... Landan."
Landan, and the red eyed man, both darted to look at the one who spoke. A small, gnarled, laughing man. A Wizard, if Landan had ever seen one. He even wore the hat! No wonder why they had simply dumped him out, the Wizard was probably a cunning one if employed by the Sheriff, but still they could not be sure of his power. Yet, the Wizard knew him, so he obviously knew of his power, didn't he?
"You know me?"
"In a way,"
"Responding without answering, a Wizard's game if I've ever heard one."
"Questioning without asking, also a game of ours."
"Yes, I am Landan. Who are you?"
"My name is not important, but it is LeArius."
"LeArius? I've not heard that name before, but I should not say your name before, because I believe I do know you. Have you gone by others? Yes, of course you have... Why do you bring me here, and who is this man? He has an aura about him."
Indeed, the man, Sir Richard Gearheart had a magic aura about him. Not simply the human aura that humans attributed to charisma and presence, but an actually physical sea of energy that surrounded him. Like most wizard's had, but he was no wizard.
"I'm glad you noticed... You'll be helping him, keep the Queen safe, I must be off. See more to and do things. Or wait... More things to see and do. I'm off!" LeArius poked his head back in, "Do not try anything on him, Landon, he's far more clever than I give him credit for, and magic does not work. He's touched by something more than the Void. Goodbye now, for a good while."
The man, Richard, sighed and muttered, "Bloody Wizards."
Landan smiled, "We're not all like him, did you understand any of that?"
"A bit."
"That's better than most humans. Safe to say, you're special, and curious. I'm here to help you, because the sands of time are passing rapidly and are soon to run out. You'll need my help, and I'll need yours, before the end."
"That's... Good to know, but not reassuring in the least bit."
"I should think not, with a Queen soon to arri-"
"Daddy!" Landan was taken a back, a beautiful girl in her late child years appeared and wrapped her long, slim arms around her father; the sheriff with red eyes. "Where have you beeen!?" She squeaked, before realizing that Landan was present. Immediately she backed from her father, and gave a little curtsy. Landan bowed deeply. "I'm sorry, have I interrupted?"
~
Richard smiled, a bit bewildered with the new Magician's presence and his recent mention of the arriving Queen. But he recovered quickly enough to pat his daughter's back, "No child. We've just been chattin. I've only just arrived, and LeArius was'ere to visit, so needless to say he's taken all my time. How've you faired in my absence? Well, I hope?"
"Good evening Sir Richard," It was Pouncey, the only face that had never changed at the Marshall's residence, he being their head serviceman, and very good at 'changing with the flow' which meant among the Marshall's, keeping your neck as one side of the family got upset with the other.
"Evening Pouncey, is the Duke expecting me?"
"Of course, he was expecting you last night."
Richard grimaced, he had expected to be here last night, but alas, women had a mind of their own. Especially his youngest daughter, Alyna. "I was delayed, unfortunately, my daughter-"
"Yes yes, it's of no concern. The Duke desires to see you now."
While Richard had not bothered to show his pain upon being expected the night before, he forced himself to hide his surprise at being desired. He had not hoped for nearly so much enthusiasm from the Duke for his presence. "Please, if you'd be so kind to take me directly to him."
"But you have only just arrived, if you wish to eat or drink..."
"Do not be silly Pouncey, I will drink at the Duke's leisure. Lead on!"
"As you wish... Please, follow me Sir Richard."
The reason for Richard's surprise was the reason for his visit in the first place, he had proposed with very little hope of positive response, to be made the Sheriff of the Court and the land. Something the Duke had much power and control over; it was a coveted position often used to make loads of dirty money and plenty of trouble amongst the nobles. Generally it was considered to be a good Sheriffery if you did exactly that, and managed to not piss of the poorer classes as long as you could. The last Sheriff had not managed that, in fact he managed to get murdered by a mob in only a week. Richard had suggested his own name, when receiving the letter of nominations from the Duke. It had been meant for him to cast someone he knew into the mix, or support many of the popular figures that were sure to be nominated. He was still not quite sure why he had done it, but perhaps it was his nobler side. Both his mother, and late wife had told him that he was too noble and too soft. One day someone would hurt him because of it. Yet, he'd become a squire, a knight, and something of local gentry during his younger years. Now, in his late thirties, he still looked to be in his young twenties, had the wisdom of fifties, and wits of a Wizard. Or so a Wizard had once told him, with a quizzical smirk.
Just as he stepped into the Duke's sitting room, he remembered the Wizard, and the reason for casting his own name. "That bastard!" He hissed under his breath, only it was only his breath that he whispered under. Everything and everyone else was silent.
"Haahaahaa, he's got ye dead ta right's johnny boyle!" The Duke's raucous laugh exploded in the center of the room, as he slammed his hand into the massive man's back who was standing at his side. His bastard brother, Johnny. Commonly known as The Reaper, and not for his farming skills. "C'mon in Sir Gerryheart, or Gartheart, or whatever the bloody hell yer fookin name is!" The massively round Duke gave Richard a powerful hug. Richard tucked his curly hair back behind his ear, and kept his eyes low, and away from the Duke's massive gut.
"Your highness," He said in a low, but still powerful voice. Few people did not take notice of his voice, and fewer still ignored it on purpose. The Duke, surprisingly, was not one of these people. As he apparently sobered up, on the spot.
"We've got business," He said in an equally important and hushed voice. He waved the others off, and used a hand upon Richard's shoulder to guide him into a side chamber.
"I want ye ta be my new Sheriff Sir Gearheart. I want ye ta run this land right, and make'r prosperous agin. We've had too many bad people makin bad moves, and wars commin. I can feel it in me bones. We're gonna need money, and fast... The only way to do that, is get rid of all the politics and magik tricks, the religious nutsos too. Whatever you need ta do ta let the common people make money, an make me money, ya hear?"
"Yes, your highness."
"Goot, and first things first, once yer sheriff, no more of this highness shit. You answer to me, God, and the King only. You'll call me by my name, God his, and reserve yer majesties and holinesses fer that King. My once dear-cousin, fookin rat bastard..." The Duke spit a large glob of... Something, into the grass. "Ya hear me? Look Richard. I ain't the cleanest snob, or the smartest, or the most loyal, but I know how ta make money, and I know ta make money, the people gotta be makin money. Makin it, and keeping some of it, but spendin most of it."
"I understand... Sir Brylan. I'll get to work on the crooks first, the real obvious ones, but sir... I will need your permission to arrest some of... Well,-"
"My men?" The Duke smirked, "I knew you'd say that, but yes. If you can catch them, by all means, arrest them. I'll keep them locked up until the war begins."
"If i can catch them, sir?"
"I'm sendin most of'em to Argentin. Ta fight, they'll make me some good money..."
"Very well, sir... Is that all?"
"Yes! No! No!" The Duke tapped his skull with a finger, and tried to remember. "Oh yes, you will have two prisoners to content with right away, they are political prisoners, the first is my cousin, yes. The King's wife, and the second is a man from Bornio I believe. The uncouth city/state to the south, he is of little importance but worth more alive than dead, a fraction of such, and I count fractions. So... Yes, well very good. They are being transported to the Sheriff's castle in Santuil. Your predecessors were quite... Rich men, for their position, and you've inherited whatever the mob's did not loot. Haha! Good luck my friend."
Richard walked into the night. Stunned. Prisoners? Sheriff? Mobs? Money?
Magicians!
He kicked a pebble. That was why he was here, that devious, prickly, sneaking, ill-spoken, little, pestering, ugly, laughing old man. Somehow that Wizard had convinced him, convinced him to just send his letter, to try, and of course magic had been occurring at this house. Real magic. The Wizard had been here somewhere making sure he'd gotten the job, there was no other real way for him to land such a position. He was too... Noble... Just... Prideful, and arrogant is what Richard thought it was. Lawful. That was what the Wizard had said. What the Duke said made little sense, money? By making the poor wealthy? Everyone knew when the rich got rich, the poor got poorer. That was just life...
"Bloody Magicians..." Richard mumbled, as he stepped into his carriage.
~
Landan Mangini rubbed his hands together slowly. They were sweaty, because he was nervous, but he rubbed them slowly to show he was only ridding them of sweat. Not because he was nervous. A placid calm was painted upon his face, betrayed easily by his dashing blue eyes which were as wary as a rabbits being chased by a hawk. He was a magician, a captured magician in an enemy's land. Why he had not been killed, tortured, and drained of all his power already he could not fathom. Perhaps nobody thought he was a magician? He'd considered the possibility, but then why would he be in a box made from Voided wood. Or Wood of the Void, from the forest of the Void. The only place in the world were magic did not work. Still, perhaps they had gotten lucky and stuck him in one of the ridiculously expensive boxes? Colored bright orange, no less. If not by chance, then why in the stars above was he not dead?
The box shifted, and suddenly he was dumped onto a hard marble floor. Black marble, not orange. Frowning, Landan struggled to look up he. He saw an impressive man; well muscled with a strong jaw, a body that proclaimed him to be young, but steely red eyes that told otherwise.
"Where am I?" Asked the magician.
"You are in the house Sir Gearheart, in the land of Ossarriia, you are his prisoner... Landan."
Landan, and the red eyed man, both darted to look at the one who spoke. A small, gnarled, laughing man. A Wizard, if Landan had ever seen one. He even wore the hat! No wonder why they had simply dumped him out, the Wizard was probably a cunning one if employed by the Sheriff, but still they could not be sure of his power. Yet, the Wizard knew him, so he obviously knew of his power, didn't he?
"You know me?"
"In a way,"
"Responding without answering, a Wizard's game if I've ever heard one."
"Questioning without asking, also a game of ours."
"Yes, I am Landan. Who are you?"
"My name is not important, but it is LeArius."
"LeArius? I've not heard that name before, but I should not say your name before, because I believe I do know you. Have you gone by others? Yes, of course you have... Why do you bring me here, and who is this man? He has an aura about him."
Indeed, the man, Sir Richard Gearheart had a magic aura about him. Not simply the human aura that humans attributed to charisma and presence, but an actually physical sea of energy that surrounded him. Like most wizard's had, but he was no wizard.
"I'm glad you noticed... You'll be helping him, keep the Queen safe, I must be off. See more to and do things. Or wait... More things to see and do. I'm off!" LeArius poked his head back in, "Do not try anything on him, Landon, he's far more clever than I give him credit for, and magic does not work. He's touched by something more than the Void. Goodbye now, for a good while."
The man, Richard, sighed and muttered, "Bloody Wizards."
Landan smiled, "We're not all like him, did you understand any of that?"
"A bit."
"That's better than most humans. Safe to say, you're special, and curious. I'm here to help you, because the sands of time are passing rapidly and are soon to run out. You'll need my help, and I'll need yours, before the end."
"That's... Good to know, but not reassuring in the least bit."
"I should think not, with a Queen soon to arri-"
"Daddy!" Landan was taken a back, a beautiful girl in her late child years appeared and wrapped her long, slim arms around her father; the sheriff with red eyes. "Where have you beeen!?" She squeaked, before realizing that Landan was present. Immediately she backed from her father, and gave a little curtsy. Landan bowed deeply. "I'm sorry, have I interrupted?"
~
Richard smiled, a bit bewildered with the new Magician's presence and his recent mention of the arriving Queen. But he recovered quickly enough to pat his daughter's back, "No child. We've just been chattin. I've only just arrived, and LeArius was'ere to visit, so needless to say he's taken all my time. How've you faired in my absence? Well, I hope?"