Lost in Glory

  "So you are trying to say that you tried to murder your own master at the age of six?!" Roseduck tried very hard not to appear horrified by the very idea. He knew Vannard was no angel, but such level of... cruelty? Insanity? Murderousity? It was simply unheard of. Unless... "Unless you are lying."

  "Yes. Unless I am lying. He was very proud of me, you know." The General really hoped Vannard was lying.

  "All right, the final question. How is your master's advice about falling from trees and the resulting conversation relevant to the matter at hand?"

  "It isn't relevant. I just wanted to annoy you a bit," Vannard admitted.

  "I hate you. Are you happy now?"

  "Yes, thank you. Did I already tell you about that clerk I had thrown out of a window, who as a result of that impaled his butt on a halberd sticking out of a dunghill?"

  "I hate you very, very much."

  ***

  Princess Gaduria joined the adventuring party consisting of an overheroic Hero and a hyperactive dwarf. She didn't have many other choices. Roaming the wilderness on her own wouldn't be too bright. Returning to her home village was out of the question too.

  Not that it was a bad village. She just didn't appreciate the company she had back there. She was a bit too smart for her own good. Smart enough to realise that there might be more to life than having ten pairs of rabbitskin shoes. Smart enough to know that fermented goat's milk isn't the best beverage ever, and that men who liked to watch other men kick a round object made from parts of a pig just aren't interesting.

  On the other hand, she just wasn't adventurous enough to leave on her own. Therefore she was even somewhat pleased that she got kidnapped. Well, at least up to the point when she realised that her captors were even more boring than people from her village. They were only interested in doom, gloom, darkness and things like that. And their robes were just awful! Probably made from potato bags or something. Not to mention that they were going to sacrifice her. How inconsiderate!

  And then she was rescued by the knight in the shining armour. Every girl's dream, more or less. Too bad he didn't have a white horse to carry her away on. In truth, any colour horse would do. Only after spending some time around Arthaxiom she had realised that if he ever had a horse, it probably ran away. And carried his sanity with it.

  At least the dwarf seemed normal. 'Normal' as in 'possible to have a conversation with'. When he wasn't chasing squirrels, at least. Or doing backflips. Or balancing his trident on his nose. Or doing dozens of other things, because he just couldn't sit still or walk in a straight line like a sane person.

  Yet, somehow, these two were the best company she ever had. This was a bit sad, but she wanted to make the best of it.

  "So, what are you doing here anyway?" Gaduria asked when they stopped for the night.

  "I am on a quest to bring down the Empire of Evil," Arthaxiom replied.

  "What Empire of Evil?"

  "Oh, you know those humans down on the plains, who built cities and castles and stuff there? They are the only empire around. The Empire of Stinking Star they call themselves, or something like that," Alexander explained.

  "I never heard they're evil."

  "He says they are." Alexander pointed at the paladin.

  "I say they are," the paladin confirmed.

  "See? Problem solved. Heroing is simple," the dwarf concluded.

  "Indeed! I have found a magical sword, I have enlisted a companion, I have rescued a beautiful princess, and soon I will be ready to take on the Empire of Evil!" Arthaxiom declared, drew his sword and posed with it dramatically in the glow of the campfire.

  Gaduria rolled her eyes. That Hero was way too Heroic for her tastes. That was too bad, because most likely she was going to spend some time in his company. Time to bring him back to reality. "Yeah? You and what army?" she sneered.

  "Him and my army, perhaps," a deep voice from the shadows replied.

  Startled, Gaduria and Alexander quickly scrambled to their feet.

  "Who goes there!?" Arthaxiom shouted. "Fiend or foe?!"

  "It's 'friend or foe'," Alexander corrected.

  "Ah, right. Sorry. Friend or foe?! Or fiend?!"

  "Fear not. I mean no harm." The owner of the voice stepped forward, and they could all see him now. He was very tall. At least a head taller than the paladin. Not including the antlers.

  "Who are you?" Alexander asked.

  "WHAT are you?" Gaduria rephrased.

  The creature stepped into the light. It was a deer. A biggest deer they've ever seen. Unlike any other deer, it was walking on its hind legs. And talking. And wearing exquisite red robes to make it all even more confusing. It paused to pose dramatically in the glow of the campfire, and then it spoke.

  "I am Deer Lord."

  ***

  Deer Lord sat with them and they spoke for a while. He wanted to send them on a quest. That instantly convinced the paladin of his good intentions. The dwarf already knew better than to argue. Gaduria didn't. "So, let me get it clear," she addressed Deer Lord. "You, Deer Lord, command deer. Every deer. Everywhere."

  "I wouldn't call it commanding," Deer Lord interrupted. "More like giving suggestions."

  "And yet, you, with all your deer, cannot handle that... Valkyrie Wolf. So you ask us, people you randomly met in the forest, to help you with this Wolf, and if we do this, your deer will help us?"

  "That is correct," Deer Lord confirmed.

  "And nobody finds anything wrong with this?!"

  "I see nothing wrong with this," Deer Lord replied.

  "Neither do I. Seems fair," Arthaxiom agreed. "It is a quest!"

  "I no longer use logic around him," Alexander pointed at the paladin. "It just doesn't work anymore."

  "But... if this Deer Lord, aided by every single deer in existence, cannot defeat that Valkyrie Wolf, how are we supposed to do this?!"

  "What do you mean by 'we'?" the paladin asked. "I cannot take you. It is too dangerous. You must wait for us with Deer Lord."

  "No way! You're not leaving me here!" Gaduria protested. "I'm not waiting for you in the company of a giant talking deer! No offense," she added after an awkward pause.

  "None taken." Deer Lord nodded graciously.

  "You cannot go. You are a princess..."

  "And a princess goes where she wants! I'll grab a nice heavy branch and I'll be a warrior princess too!"

  "Very well." The paladin sighed. Can't argue with a princess.

  "So it is settled. Now, how are we going to fulfil this quest?" Gaduria asked.

  "Heroically!" Arthaxiom declared, grabbed his sword, and posed dramatically in front of the campfire. Again. Gaduria looked questioningly at the dwarf. He didn't seem worried at all.

  "I suppose so. Let's just go along with it. It will work out. Somehow."

  "Are you suicidal or something?!" Gaduria definitely didn't share Alexander's optimism. "Going after a fearsome beast without any sort of a plan?"

  Arthaxiom decided to dispel her doubts. "Fear not, fair princess. While our lives might be endangered, it is for a just cause, and we will prevail, if such is the will of the Rainbow Sturgeon, the Mythical Archpegasus, and the Joyous Beige Dragon! And maybe, just maybe, the virtue of my deeds will make me look like a shining star of serenity in your beautiful turquoise eyes that are deep like the virgin mountain lakes!"

  "Erm... what?!"

  "I think he's trying to say he likes you," Alexander whispered, while the paladin carried on about hair like heavenly orchards.

  "Ah. For a second there I thought he's out of his mind. Again," Gaduria whispered back.

  "That's probably also true."

  "And you're willingly travelling with him?!" She thought for a second about what she had just said and decided to rephrase. "And we're willingly travelling with him?!"

  "Relax. It will turn out all right. See, we saved you because we went in the direction an undead weasel had run away in. And now you are a princess, because this holy oaf apparently doesn't hear it w
hen you deny it. Or when I call him a holy oaf, probably."

  "I heard this! I might be a bit holy, but I am not an oak!" the paladin protested, taking a break from giving compliments. "I am not any kind of tree. What is wrong with you?"

  "Sorry. A butterfly distracted me," the dwarf apologised.

  "Ah. Yes. It happens. Where was I? Fingers, I think... Your fingers are like pieces of rainbow bread, woven by elves under a pristine waterfall of..."

  "Here he goes again," Alexander sighed.

  "I probably should be flattered, but I don't think he's seeing me properly when he's saying these things," Gaduria said. "It's a bit sad. I'd really like to look like that thing he's seeing."

  "You want to have rainbow bread for fingers?"

  "Well, when you put it like this... I don't think I'd like to look like that thing he's seeing. Anyway, what did this Valkyrie Wolf do to you?" she turned to Deer Lord. "Ate one deer too many?" Someone had to inquire a bit. Neither the paladin nor the dwarf seemed interested in what this quest was all about.

  "It... it sings. Dreadfully. It sings so bad that Duck Duke migrated with all his people. Ducks, I mean." Deer Lord looked terrified by just speaking about that. The escape of Duck Duke must have been a really bad omen.

  "Duck Duke? How much animal nobility is there?" Alexander was curious.

  "Oh, you wouldn't believe. There's Moose Marshall, Weasel Warlord, and let's not forget about Aarchie the Aardvark Aarchon."

  "A serious case of aalliteration here," the dwarf japed.

  "...and your toenails are like eyelids of unicorns..." Arthaxiom droned on.

  "He's never even seen my toenails!" Gaduria protested.

  "I doubt he's seen a unicorn either," Alexander japed again, but nobody seemed to get his jokes. He didn't mind.

  "So anyway, where do we find this Valkyrie Wolf?" The princess decided to get the conversation back on track.

  "It roams through the forest, singing viciously at whatever it finds. There is only one chance to catch up with it. Every full moon it can be found on the..." Deer Lord paused, lowered his voice and spoke with dread, "...cursed haunted forbidden cemetery."

  Gaduria wasn't impressed. "Of doom?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Is it a cursed haunted forbidden cemetery of DOOOOOM?"

  "No."

  "Good."

  "It is a cursed haunted forbidden cemetery of PAAAAAAIN!"

  "Ermine that."

  ***

  They were in the Chamber of High Lords. It was a special room for the Emperor to meet and consult with the High Lords about the most important decisions. If he bothered. The last Emperor didn't and neither did at least four before him. Therefore the High Lords were in the Chamber of High Lords for the first time in their lives.

  Dust and cobwebs had accumulated in the chamber over the years. The Master of Ceremony had decided that a bit of cleaning would certainly be needed. Unfortunately, according to the Codex only the Emperor himself could order servants to enter. It seemed unlikely that he'd do that, given the fact that he was quite dead. Luckily, a loophole was discovered. The Codex specifically said that no one but the Emperor and the High Lords can see the interior of the Chamber of High Lords. Because of such a strange wording, the Master of Ceremony decided that servants could be in the chamber if they were blindfolded. As a result of his creativity, the chamber now was looking exactly as if it had been abandoned for about a century, and then cleaned by a bunch of irritated, blindfolded servants ordered around by an old, short-sighted man whose only area of expertise was protocol.

  The Master of Ceremony was standing in front of the chair technically belonging to the former Emperor, and the seven High Lords approached their places. Six High Lords and one wife of High Lord Who Is Kept Away From Highlordly Matters to be exact. One of them was dragging a chair.

  Duke Thinoak's place was the furthest from the entrance. Since he wasn't going to entrust his extra large custom-made and exquisitely ornamented chair to some blindfolded servants, he ended up dragging it behind him. He wasn't the fittest man around and the chair was dreadfully heavy, therefore he wasn't moving too fast.

  The Master of Ceremony waited patiently. He would stand there and wait until the end of the world if the protocol required that. The High Lords weren't that patient, but not impatient enough to help Thinoak. The Duke himself was too proud to ask. So they stood around the table and watched the fat man sweat and gasp and struggle with his chair. Some were yawning, others were sniggering. The Marquis had that absent look of his. Even the annoying sound of the chair scraping the floor didn't get to him.

  "Hey, Thinoak, hurry up, will you? I don't want to stand here till you start dropping acorns!" Philigree taunted the Duke, who just muttered something angry and intelligible in response and continued on his way. "What was that? I'd swear you said that you're practicing for the annual chair-dragging contest!" The Duke didn't respond. He usually did respond when someone made fun of him, but this time he was too focused on not passing out. Philigree's singing followed him. "Drag, drag, drag your chair, gently down the floor!" he sang, rather off key, but nobody minded. The other lords were enjoying the show. They were all perfectly capable of hiding their amusement, but there was no need for that. No onlookers here. No need to be civil to each other.

  The Duke finally reached his place. His face was red and his breathing was heavy. Too bad it wasn't time to sit down yet. Nobody present would mind seeing him drop dead. Perhaps with the exception of the Master of Ceremony, because a High Lord dropping dead before the election proceedings had even started would surely pose some protocolar challenges. Getting blindfolded servants to carry out the fat carcass would be a challenge too, a logistical one for a change.

  "Let's get along with it, shall we?" the SemiViscount hurried.

  "Very well. Now we shall check whether all desired, required and allowed are present and ready to take part in the proceedings to ascertain the matter of succession after our late Emperor Cessorius the Thirteenth, may he rule for a thousand and three years, who tragically died without leaving a lawful successor and left us like those orphans in a burning orphanage without door nor window to get out, having to rely only on their wits and wisdom to come out uncharred from the predicament cast upon them by a cruel and unrelenting fate."

  "Apologies, but isn't adding the traditional 'may he rule for a thousand and three years' to the name of a deceased Emperor a bit rude?" Earl Blazingtree pointed out.

  "Well..." The Master of Ceremony started to reply, but the Count cut him off.

  "Yes, and that ridiculous orphanage metaphor! Why did you think that we really needed to hear that?!"

  "I love the smell of burnt orphans in the morning," Philigree remarked.

  "When I was young, the orphans burnt mornings," the Marquis said.

  "Young man, it is not about what do I consider rude or not, out of place or not. It is a matter of protocol," the Master of Ceremony lectured the Earl, ignoring the other distractions. "The proper way to do this was written down long ago, and as the Master of Ceremony I am responsible for upholding this way. If it means I have to use ridiculous orphanage metaphors, then I shall use ridiculous orphanage metaphors. The election proceedings are very important and have to be done correctly. Therefore we will do them correctly." Everyone groaned, some visibly, others only inwardly. Everyone apart from the Marquis, who didn't care. "Let us proceed. Duke Bartholomeus Theodoricus Angus Thinoak, High Lord of the Empire, are you present?"

  The Duke was still catching his breath after his ordeal. Just his luck that he had to go first. "Yeah."

  "Duke, please, the formal response," the Master of Ceremony insisted.

  The Duke stared at the old man. If looks could kill, the Master of Ceremony would be turned into sausages and eaten. They couldn't and the Duke got nowhere. Outstaring someone who wasn't seeing him all that well was an impossible task, and the Master of Ceremony was ready to wait for the proper answer till one of them died.

 
"Oh very well. I, *wheeze*, Duke Bartholomeus Theodoricus, *gasp*, Angus Thinoak, *wheeze*, am present, *gasp*, well in mind, *gasp*, and body, *wheeze* *wheeze*, and ready *gasp*..." He paused, because of lack of breath.

  "If you're gonna puke, please do it outside." Philigree just loved kicking the fallen. In the head or in the private parts preferably.

  "...and ready to participate in these proceedings! *gasp* *wheeze* *wheeze* *wheeze*"

  "I recognise Duke Bartholomeus Theodoricus Angus Thinoak, High Lord of the Empire. Earl Gevenarius Theosopius Leocadius von Blazingtree..."

  And so it continued, with a bit less wheezing. One after another they replied with the formal ceremonial response. It went more or less smoothly until there came a moment all the lords were dreading. Some had seen it coming from quite a long way away and some realised it only when it was almost in their faces, but everyone was equally horrified by this. Everyone apart from Marquis de Shaggysheep, obviously.

  "Baron Regedulf Solthyron Asrius Oxrabbit, High Lord of the Empire, are you present?"

  The High Lords waited for Lady Oxrabbit to speak. In a very rare occurrence, they were all in a silent agreement that she should succeed. At the same time, they were well aware that success was unlikely.

  "I, Baroness Lumilla Sywinge Indolencia Oxrabbit, am present in place of Baron Regedulf Solthyron Asrius Oxrabbit, High Lord of the Empire, well in mind and body, and ready to participate in these proceedings."

  "This is highly irregular," said the Master of Ceremony. "What is the reason of the Baron's absence?"

  "He is... not feeling well at the moment." It wasn't entirely true, although he would certainly feel bad if he had to sit there. He hated important meetings. They were boring and made him feel like a caged tiger. A rabid and hungry one.

  "He seemed all right at the funeral. He gave quite a rousing speech. Did some disease befall him? Where is he now? Is he bedridden?"

  The Master of Ceremony wouldn't give up on the Baron's presence so easily. Lady Oxrabbit was tempted to lie, but it was too easy to check. She had a feeling that the old man would insist on checking. "No. He is somewhere outside. Running or something. He needs his exercise."

  "So he should be able to participate in these proceedings."

  "Oh no, he can't, because..." She didn't know how to argue that, but General Roseduck came to the rescue.

  "Because his brain needs fresh air."