Chapter 17: Stale In Her Mouth

They were sitting in the window of a coffee parlour in the up-market district of the city of Reliance, Bianca paused for breath and took a sip from the bone china cup. She gently replaced it upon the saucer and then returned, full speed, into her recount of the morning’s gossip to her friend, Kiera. “And then she said that it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife. Sure a rich bachelor wants a wife, but I’ll tell you this for free: a married man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a mistress.”

“So you still think that Richard is having an affair?”

“I do. Anyway, have you heard that the town house of Phrellovane Way is lived in again?”

“The House of Joy?”

“Fire burning, candles lit. They’ve got the milkman leaving bottles too.”

“Sam and Simone aren’t back, are they?”

“I don’t think they would. Not after… you know…”

The bell to the coffee parlour chimed and a third young lady rushed in. She sat down at the table with Bianca and Kiera, panting. She untied and removed her bonnet and placed it in her lap. Bianca called the waiter over. “A glass of water for our guest, please,” and then to the new arrival, “What on earth’s the fuss, Emily?”

“It’s about the town house on Phrellovane Way.”

“How funny! We were just -”

“A princess lives there!”

__________

Dear Diary,

We have arrived in the city of Reliance, the sub-capital of Kingdom Faithful. Morab arranged for us a carriage and we hastily left Rypt. A few days later we arrived at the town house. It hasn’t been lived in for ages. Everything was dusty and there were cobwebs everywhere. Morab told me to clean everything up whilst he went into the city to make arrangements. He came back in the middle of the night, drunk. Arrangements? Sharon and I had a great deal to say about that. But, only between ourselves, of course.  

Whilst I was cleaning though, I discovered lots of things about the house and its previous owner. It turns out that Sam used to live here. And I think he was married. There are portraits and photographs of him and this woman all around the house. I spent most of that afternoon crying for Sam. And with the revelations all around the house, I keep on wondering what happened to his wife. Is she dead too? Did she die and that’s why Sam joined the Keepers? I want to go out and ask questions… But Morab has forbidden me. If the city people see me with this Crown on, then I’ll cause a big stir in society. Somebody saw me this morning - I popped out to bring in the milk bottles and there was a woman, dressed in all her finery, staring in astonishment at me.  I think I’ll keep that occurrence from Morab. 

I want to find out more about the house. And about Sam. He’s such an enigma. And not solely Sam. Both Morab and Tergen are very curious characters too. I need to understand them. What is it that drives them to find and protect these Crowns? 

Enough for now. I had best start to clean the dining room. Morab wants to turn it into his study, which means I will probably have to organize his bookshelves. Sam has a lot of books. Had a lot of books. I wonder why he had to leave them all behind. Did he think that he would return? Did he leave in a hurry? So many questions. I doubt I’ll ever find the answers. I’ll have to store his stuff in one of the disused upstairs rooms. There’s a room on the middle floor that’s locked. I so want to see what’s in there! House of Mysteries!! 

Until next time, Diary.

__________

“Do you think we should leave our calling cards and pay a visit?”

“That’s hardly the correct manner, Kiera. We have to leave an invitation to the next ball and introduce ourselves then,” Bianca scolded.

“Do you think she is aware of the history of the house?” Emily speculated.

“Who knows. No one’s lived in the house for years.”

“But it wasn’t announced as being for sale, which suggests that the princess knows Sam and that she has his consent to stay there,” Emily continued.

“Do you think that she could be that girl?” asked Kiera

“But didn’t she… you know… die?”

“I heard that she was murdered by Sam and Simone.”

“Yes, but murder was never confirmed, was it?” Emily protested. “That’s just vicious rumours.”

“Enough with all this mystery!” Bianca exclaimed. “All we know is that Sam and Simone lived in the house with their daughter who vanished one night. Then they left. Rumour speculated that they had killed their own daughter. This princess probably has nothing to do with Sam, Simone or the missing daughter. What was her name again?”

The ladies thought for a minute, struggling to recall the name.

“Didn’t it begin with ‘g’?” Emily suggested. “Gina?”

“No. It began with ‘j’ and her name was -”

__________

“Jen!” Morab called up the stairs. “Get down here now! You call this kitchen clean? This morning’s breakfast things are still sitting on the side!”

Jen entered the kitchen. “It was established in the minutes of the last Keepers of the Crowns meeting that I would not be expected to clean up after you.”

“And you expect me to do it? I’m having to do Sam’s work on top of my own since he went and got himself killed!”

Jen bit her tongue at Morab’s harsh comment against Sam and said, “I’ll do Sam’s work for you.”

“You? Pah! Women are good for only one thing!”

“Cleaning? How dare you!”

“Make that two things,” Morab sneered. Jen’s retort ran stale in her mouth.

There was a heavy silence filled with fear and tension between the pair. “What’s the other thing?” she finally asked, staring straight into Morab’s dark, glinting eyes. There was a further silence. The pair held eye contact: Morab’s powerful, domineering, Jen’s frightened and quivering. 

Suddenly, Morab lunged at her. Simultaneously, Jen turned and fled, running out of the kitchen and into the musty, cluttered lounge. She knocked boxes over on her way past in a desperate attempt to prevent Morab from catching her. She dashed into the hallway and threw herself against the front door. She rattled the door handle, but Morab had previously locked it. She banged her fists against the door, but her attempts were futile. She turned around, petrified and hopeless. Morab was standing there, sturdy and strong, the staircase behind him leading into dark oblivion. The stained glass window above the front door showed a red rose that cast a dangerous, scarlet light across his face. He was menacing, his heavy breathing like that of an enraged bull. Jen turned back to the door and began screaming as Morab advanced. 

And then his strong hand was over her mouth and she was silent despite her attempts. And with his other hand, he grabbed her hair and began to pull her up the staircase. And Jen could not fight back for her hands were holding the Crown to her head, to prevent it from falling off and causing imminent death.

__________

“No. It began with ‘j’ and her name was Joy. Because she brought such joy to their lives. I remember Simone telling my mother once. That’s why it’s been called the House of Joy.”

Chapter 16: Morally Void Beings

“Right. You all ready for another story? I have had my tea now, and I am properly refreshed to tell you a tale of epic standards. So settle down, children, and let old Atificat tell you about our hero Andleli and how his epic mythical journey began:

Andleli was a powerful warrior who fought in the Great Wars. He killed many strong enemies and brought great prosperity to his homeland. However, on his journey home from the wars he was confronted by an arrogant, young man who challenged him to a duel. Andleli had no difficulty in defeating him and ran him through with his sword. 

Little did Andleli know, the arrogant young man was the son of a powerful sorcerer called Isin. Now Isin was not only very powerful but very cruel and vindictive. When he learnt that his son had been murdered, he used his magic to summon Andleli to him. He demanded of Andleli the completion of five exceedingly dangerous tasks to make recompense for the loss of his son. He called Andleli to his study at the top of his creaking, crooked house. “Listen carefully, Andeleli,” Isin commanded. “The Pygmy Elves are in possession of a truly spectacular thing. It is a Crown. A Crown that allows the wearer to prophesy and see the future. Because of it, the Pygmy Elves have remained an unbeatable force, as, of course, they are always aware of any future invasions and can plan accordingly. I want you to retrieve it for me.”

“But won’t they know that I am coming?”

“Yes. And be able to predict your every move.”

“How is this possible?”

“I don’t care. Just get me that Crown if you truly seek absolution for your crime.”

And to ensure that Andleli would not start a new life again on his travels and not complete the task, Isin cursed Andleli with a creature. “Do not worry, worm. The creature in question is very pleasant and highly magical. It shall be your guide to the Pygmy Elves and back again. It is an animal of spectacular beauty, shimmers of green and purple and silver.”

“What is this wondrous being, sir?”

There was a clumsy flapping and a bird landed on Andleli’s shoulder. “Good day, Mr Andleli-worm! My name is Panalia and I shall be your guide!”

Andleli cast a dark look at Isin, and Isin smiled back cruelly. “What better creature to find your way back home than a pigeon?”

“Indeed,” Andleli dryly replied.

Panalia the pigeon pooed.

Andleli and Panalia had been travelling across the land for several weeks now, through forest and meadow, across mountains and valleys. Now, the unlikely pair were trekking through a wood. “This forest is known as the Wood of Terr - a notorious bandit. Terr is believed to have resided in this forest during the summer time, and retreating to various caves in the winter where he would slay hibernating bears and live off their meat and use their fur for warmth,” Panalia explained. “Of course, he had a band who accompanied him, but he regularly killed them and introduced new members to keep the chances of a mutiny to a low and his leadership intact. But the band of thieves obviously disbanded many many years ago.”

Andleli and Panalia then entered a clearing and stumbled upon a band of thieves mugging a mole. The mole in question was a bit of a goon and was highly susceptible to being targetted by morally void beings. He was lying on the ground whilst the muggers tore at his tweed jacket and stamped on his reading glasses. As the mole lay subject to the vicious beatings, the wind was in the willows and the picnic basket he had been carrying was dashed upon the grass in a great mess of wicker, tartan and marmalade. Twas a sorrowful sight. 

Immediately, Andleli jumped into the clearing and started to fight off the muggers singe-handedly. Having killed off half of them, the rest of the thieves fled into the labyrinth of trees. Andleli went to attend to the mole.

The mole rolled over and saw the man and the pigeon approaching. “Oh dear. I must be hallucinating.”

“‘Fraid not, friend; he is actually a pigeon,” Andleli said, helping the mole up.

“Hello mole. My name is Panalia and this is Andleli and we are on a quest to retrieve the Crown that is worn by the King of the Pygmy Elves. Would you like to join us, mole?”

“That’s very kind of you to offer!” the mole said. “I am very much a-feared that the robbers might return. My name is Rapher. I do apologise for the circumstances that our meeting has occurred under. I was going to meet my friend the Water-Rat when I was jumped by those despicable thugs! Thank you, good sir, for saving me! I will do what I can to repay this favour you have done for me, and shall travel with you until I have fulfilled this debt.”

“Great,” Andleli muttered dryly.

And so the trio of travellers continued on their way towards the coastline…”

“Enough, Old Man!” an audience member cried out. Atificat looked at the man who had interrupted him. All the children and the parents sitting on the grass turned around to see who was ruining their story. It was a man wearing a large brown habit with the hood up, shrouding his face in shadow.

“Can I help you, sir?” Atificat asked, politely despite the rude interruption.

“You’re coming with us.”

From what seemed from nowhere, six other hooded figures surrounded the storyteller’s tent. Parents held onto their children in the hope that they might not get involved. But Atificat kept his cool. He stood up. “Why?” he asked.

“Because you are Required.”

“Hmm.” 

“Come, Antifi- Arrrrgh!” The hooded man fell to the ground, a dagger lodged in the back of his neck. Behind him was a young man who had a very sheepish look on his face. Immediately, pandemonium arose. Children and parents ran in all different directions to try and escape the imminent fight. Three of the hooded figures ran for the young man, drawing their scimitars, whilst the other three went for Atificat. 

The young man ran and was followed hastily by another man who seemed very perplexed with the evolution of the situation. They ran into a tent where the local blacksmith was showing off his handiwork. They both grabbed swords and exited the tent, prepared to fight. “You know, I’ve never been in a proper sword fight before, Tergen,” the younger man said. “And that’s the first time I’ve killed anyone.” 

“If you don’t want to fight, Maj, then stay back. I can take them,” Tergen said, brandishing his sword and twirling it in ways that only a professional could. And then the hooded men lunged at them. The man called Tergen parried, dived and dodged, constantly getting the better of the hooded men. He struck them with the sword and they fell to the ground. The younger man called Maj stared on in amazement. Evidently, he hadn’t expected this kind of behaviour or set of skills from Tergen.

Meanwhile, Atificat was busy taking on his own scimitar-wielding gang of rogues. He had grabbed his staff - a old gnarled branch from a tree that he had carved and fashioned into a suitable walking stick/weapon, depending on the situation. This situation certainly called for it to be used as a weapon. Atificat, despite his age, whirled his staff above his head and whacked it against the head of the closest hooded man, who fell to ground unconscious. Atificat continued to strike out with his staff, knocking his attackers to the ground either into an unconscious stupor or into the afterlife. When they were all lying on the grass, Atificat disappeared into his tent. A few minutes later he reappeared carrying his staff in one hand and a bag in the other. 

“‘Ere, Atificat!” a fire-breather called, running over to him. “Where you off to?”

“Anywhere. They’ve found me again,” Atificat replied, still marching off through the fairground, all eyes still on him after his impressive performance.

“We’ll look after you, mate!”

“No, you can’t. I could fight those three. But I couldn’t have fought all seven of them. I’m out of my depth. I’m going into hiding again.” And he marched down the hill into the village. 

“Sir! Stop! Please stop!” two voices called across the village square to Atificat. Not in synchronized unity, you understand. They said mostly the same words in a varied, overlapping manner, but enough about that. Despite these two voices addressing him, Atificat kept on walking. 

Tergen and Maj caught up with him and walked along beside him. “It’s Atificat, right?” Maj said. 

“We’ve travelled from Bridgeside. We understand that you with the fair at that point,” Tergen outlined. 

“So what if I was?” Atificat questioned, still walking out of the village and into a thicket, and still not looking at his two new companions. “That was weeks ago.”

“A boy died,” Tergen explained. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“He fell down a hole in a cave behind a waterfall!” Maj said, gathering aggression. “I found him with a map that led him right to it! And he must have got that from you because you told the story to him. And now because of your story and foolishness, many more people have died! It’s your fault!” Maj and Tergen stopped, hoping that Maj’s words would force Atificat to stop. But he didn’t. “How can you just -” And Maj broke down into tears, sitting on a tree stump in the thicket.

Tergen trotted to catch up with Atificat and forcibly stopped him. “Please, Atificat. We haven’t come to blame you or seek vindication or revenge or anything like that. I am part of a secret society called the Keepers of the Crowns.” This made Atificat stop. The sun, high in the sky, shone through the over-hanging branches and leaves, creating a dark, yet graceful ambience. “Our aims are to find the twenty-nine enchanted Crowns and protect them from our rival group, Crowners of the Light, who seek to use the Crowns for selfish purposes. In the cavern where the boy died was a woman wearing a Crown. She was centuries old and the Crown she wore was the Crown of Immortality. And we followed the trail from Angus to you. We just want to find out anything we can about the Crowns to protect our land. Will you help us?”

Atificat replied, “The Crowners have pursued me so many times. I’m tired of my life being chased and threatened. I’ll help you. You can count on me. But I need to know that you won’t leave me to the wolves. I need protection. You need to help me too. Understood? Good. Let’s go then.”