Lost in Glory

"Sssssh! I'm hunting foxes!" the man whispered.

  The paladin remained silent and watched in bewilderment as the man moved in a grotesque way which most likely was supposed to be stealthy. He and his companions followed the hunter at the distance, curious to see what he would do. It didn't seem likely that he would succeed. Mainly because there weren't any foxes around. Amazingly enough, it didn't take him too long to spot a single one, sitting with its back turned.

  The hunter didn't shoot an arrow at the animal. Instead he took a canvas sack out of his bag and slowly approached the fox, utilizing the same pseudo-stealthy movement. The fox didn't even flinch when the sack landed on it.

  "I have you now, you fwisky fox!" he shouted, lifting the sack high to show his trophy. "This fox eluded me fow a long long time, but now I, Isidow the Explowew, have finally captuwed it!"

  "Good for you," said Alexander.

  "Yes, congratulations on completing your quest!" Arthaxiom had absolutely no idea what was going on here, but quests were one thing he understood. This man here achieved his goal by skill and perseverance, and therefore was worthy of respect.

  "Thank you, thank you," Isidor the Explorer replied. "You have no idea how much it means to me. I'd like to dedicate this fox to my mom and my dad and a cewtain coyote..."

  "Sorry to interrupt," Gaduria interrupted, "but your sack seems to be... on fire?"

  "WHAT?! NO!" Isidor watched in horror as his trophy burst into flames and the fox jumped out and ran away. In his shock for a moment he didn't register that the flames started to lick his hand too. When he did, he screamed, let go of the sack and stomped on it to put out the fire. Meanwhile the fox stopped, turned around, stuck out its tongue at the hapless explorer and disappeared into the bushes.

  "Note to self: the fox can conjuwe fiwe," Isidor said to himself. "Get a fiwepwoof sack. Now back! To the labowatowy!" He departed without as much as a goodbye.

  "What a strange person," said Arthaxiom.

  "That coming from you means a lot," Gaduria replied.

  "What do you mean?"

  Gaduria sighed. The Hero's lack of understanding of common phrases was tiresome. "I mean that you are a strange person yourself."

  "I am not!"

  "Yes you are."

  "No! I am a normal person, right, Alexander?"

  "I'm with her on this one," the dwarf replied. "Unless by a normal person you mean an armoured madman roaming the countryside, slaughtering wildlife, using big words he doesn't understand, worshipping silly things, rescuing imaginary princesses..."

  "It is called being a Hero!" Arthaxiom interrupted.

  "Heroes aren't normal," Gaduria pointed out.

  "That is true.. but you make it sound like it is something bad!"

  "Not necessarily bad. I appreciate you rescuing imaginary princesses."

  "And adopting stranded dwarves," Alexander added.

  "But some things you do are quite silly."

  "Like what?" the paladin challenged them.

  "Like your speeches, for example," Alexander said. "These are the worst."

  "I disagree," Gaduria said. "They are bad, yes, but challenging random wildlife to duels? Way worse. Not to mention him calling me names all the time."

  "Oh. What was that rose thing yesterday?"

  "Riveting red rose of Redhaven I believe."

  "How dreadful! What's Redhaven?"

  "How would I know? Sounds like some sort of city." They both looked at the paladin. He just shrugged.

  "I still think his speeches are worse," the dwarf said.

  "Maybe that's because he's not calling you a riveting rose."

  "Maybe. Hey Arthaxiom, if you were to call me a flower, what flower would it be?"

  "I do not know. You are not a fair maiden, therefore I cannot compare you to a flower."

  "I see. Well, too bad you are a fair maiden, eh?" the dwarf asked Gaduria.

  "Shut up, you rancid rhubarb of Redmond!"

  ***

  General Roseduck was somewhat pleased. The first day of proceedings didn't accomplish much. The High Lords were recognised by the Master of Ceremony and managed to antagonise each other a bit, which wasn't any surprise. The Master of Ceremony wanted to do everything properly, Duke Thinoak wanted to get over with it, Baron Oxrabbit wanted to stop sneezing, everyone else also wanted the Baron to stop sneezing, and to get rid of the Baron too, preferably. Philigree threw jokes at everything that didn't run away. The Marquis didn't care. The General wanted the proceedings to continue fruitlessly for as long as possible and it seemed he would get his wish. An unplanned day of break was a nice touch too, and it even had earned him some respect from the Master of Ceremony, whatever good it would do.

  On the third day of the proceedings they gathered in the Chamber of the High Lords once again. The Chamber was looking much better this time. The dust was gone, the drapes were clean. The potted plants had been exchanged for some that weren't shrivelled. The paintings were free of dust, so their contents could actually be seen. General Roseduck got interested in a one, which was portraying a big brown dog, probably a pet of one of the past Emperors. The really unusual thing was the dog's facial expression. Roseduck decided that the painting had to be called "A dog who swallowed a frog, got hit by a log, got lost in a fog and was contemplating suicide". It was a long title, but he felt that only this somewhat adequately described the contents.

  "All right, last time we all made fools of ourselves, so be it," the Duke said before even the Master of Ceremony officially started the meeting. "But today let's all be mature and reasonable, let's select our new Emperor and let's get it over with!"

  "Achoo!" the Baron sneezed.

  "May the Lord of Light bless thy nose," Earl Gevenarius blessed him.

  "Shut up!" the Count barked.

  "No, you shut up!" The Earl wasn't going to allow the Count to bully him. Especially that in fact he was just a mere SemiViscount. "And stop oppressing my religious beliefs!"

  "I SAID," the Duke rose, slammed his fist on the table and shouted, "let's be REASONABLE. IT IS CLEAN HERE NOW WHY ARE YOU SNEEZING?!"

  "It was a joke," the Baron said, gleaming with innocence. The Duke shook a fist vigorously at him, which in turn caused Philigree to start laughing hysterically.

  "WHAT?!" the Duke shouted again, "WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?!"

  The Hiwelthadt pointed at something behind the Duke and kept laughing, unable to say a word. The Duke turned around, and the other lords left their seats to see better. What they saw was a painting of a cat in a hat.

  "I fail to see what is so funny about this!" the Duke complained.

  Philigree took hold of himself just for long enough to make a reply. "You were posing dramatically in front of this picture. When you lifted your arm, there was this silly cat peeking from behind you!" He surrendered to laughter yet again.

  "What a dreadful painting," the Count judged. "The one who painted it must have been retarded."

  "Ah, this must be the famous cat in a hat painting that my grandfather did," the Marquis spoke up. "Nobody knew what had happened to it, and here it is! By the way, Count, it seems you have insulted my dear grandpa. Prepare to die."

  The Count was a bit flustered by the fact that he inadvertently insulted an ancestor of a fellow lord, but he quickly got over it. Being threatened had never agreed with him. "Bring it on, old man!" he growled.

  "No! No killing! It is not allowed!" the Master of Ceremony shouted, while bravely positioning himself between the two. "Or at least wait until after the proceedings are over!"

  "Heh. Don't worry," the Marquis said. "I was joking."

  "Not funny," the Count said, looking at him nastily.

  "Fooled you, eh? My grandfather would have never painted something that stupid."

  "Well I should think so! It is unworthy of someone of this stature!"

  "Yes, he painted only ferrets in berets."

  "My point exactly, the whole point of being a noble... Wait, what?!" The Count only now rea
lised what the Marquis had said. He couldn't tell if he was joking again or not. The Marquis wasn't available for further inquiries, because he went back to his place, sat down, and his mind left this plane of existence once again. The other lords also returned to their seats, while pointing out various ridiculousnesses in the painting, and the Hiwelthadt was slowly running out of laughter.

  When all was calm again, the Duke stood up again. "Now, shall we choose our new Emperor?"

  "Not so fast, young man," the Master of Ceremony replied. "First I have to list all the eligible candidates, so that you know who are you choosing from."

  "Very well, there can't be that many, eh?"

  "Do not worry, young man, only forty-three of them."

  "Now that is quite a few. Just list them quickly and we can start choosing. We don't have entire eternity, you know."

  "The youth of today, so impatient. For each eligible candidate I need to summarise his biography, biographies of all his ancestors for three generations, and his closest connection to the Imperial Line."

  "Three generations?!" the Duke scowled.

  "Why, yes, of course. You have to know ancestors of the one you choose, don't you think?"

  "He doesn't even know his own," Philigree decided to annoy the Duke even more.

  "Shut up, you spineless twerp with a stupid title!" It didn't take much to anger the Duke again. He was standing, red in the face, shouting and pounding the table with his fist. Philigree just shrugged and stuck his tongue at him. Now it was time for the Count to join in the fun. He stood up too, pointed at the Duke and started shouting himself.

  "You shut up, you fat sack of whale lard! Who made you the boss here anyway?!"

  "Don't you dare disrespect me, you SemiViswhelp!" The Duke quickly redirected his wrath and got creative with the title. "I am the most senior noble here and you all know it!"

  "The most overweight, maybe! I'd strangle you if your neck wasn't so thick!"

  "A duel!" Baron Oxrabbit shouted and started chanting. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

  "I apologise, but duels between High Lords are strictly forbidden during the election period," the Master of Ceremony said.

  "Nobody asked you!" the Count shouted.

  "May the Lord of Light forgive your stupidity," the Earl chimed in.

  "In fact, I am the most senior noble here," said the Marquis, as he returned to reality for a second, "but I don't mind. Please amuse yourselves."

  "Most absent-minded, too," Philigree commented.

  "I am very grateful that my mind is able to filter out your silliness," the Marquis replied and phased out again. Meanwhile the Duke and the Count continued shouting at each other.

  "Fatass!"

  "Peasant!"

  "Overweight pig!"

  "Good for nothing buffoon!"

  "Godless heathens!" the Earl joined in.

  "Heatless god-hens!" Philigree mimicked.

  "This is jolly good fun, eh Roseduck?" the Baron said, seeing that the General didn't participate in hostilities. "Say something, don't feel left out!"

  "Unfortunately, I am not versed enough in lordly ways to fully appreciate the subtleties, not to mention to participate myself," Roseduck replied.

  "Yeah, he's a lowborn bastard and he knows it, at least he has enough decency to be quiet," the Duke said, demonstrating that his attention could be split between insulting many people at once. "So be quiet and don't encourage him!"

  "At least he can ride a horse." It was the most witty retort the Baron could come up with, but it was enough to infuriate the Duke even more. He got so angry he couldn't say a word, instead he was just shrieking.

  "Shut up, Thinoak! Stop spitting on the table!" The Count didn't appreciate the Duke's spittle being all over the place.

  "No, you shut up!"

  "You both shut up!"

  "May the Lord of Light shut up all of you!"

  "May the ceiling fall on all of you!"

  "Oooh, a bunny!" the Marquis exclaimed. That immediately shut them all up. Seven pairs of eyes were looking at him with horrified surprise. "Oh. Sorry. Don't mind me, gentlemen. Wrong reality."

  The Master of Ceremony just sighed.

  ***

  It took them quite a few days to reach the cursed haunted forbidden cemetery of pain. It was getting dark when they arrived.

  "We're here," Gaduria said. "Any idea when the full moon is?"

  "Tonight, obviously," Arthaxiom replied.

  "How do you know?"

  "I do not. It is logical that it should be. After all, would it not be somewhat silly and unheroic to hang around here for a week or two?"

  "Stop it, you two! Aren't we supposed to be scared or something?" Alexander somehow thought they should behave appropriately to the place.

  "I am a Hero. I am no good at being scared. Sorry."

  "I'm against being scared before anything scary happens." Gaduria was way too practical to shiver in fear just because she happened to be visiting a cemetery. Even if it was a cursed one. "Let's find a good place to wait."

  They looked around. The cemetery was potentially scary indeed. Slightly crumbling, yet still distinctly recognizable gravestones. Dead or dying trees between them. Tall grass in which untold horrors could be lurking. Ominous shadows created by waning daylight. A badly notched signpost.

  "Keep out," the dwarf read.

  "Makes sense. It is a forbidden cemetery after all." Arthaxiom's logic was infallible as usual.

  "I am afraid to ask this, but does it mean that we will also find out why is it haunted, cursed and of PAAAAIN?" Gaduria asked.

  "I think we may."

  "This will be fun."

  They waited for sunset. The paladin waited by posing dramatically in the last rays of sun. He posed in front of tombstones, he posed threatening the trees, and his posing was being ignored. He also collected a few morbid flowers for Gaduria, which she graciously accepted and a bit less graciously threw away a moment later. The dwarf quickly got bored of pretending to be scared and started walking around, looking behind gravestones and poking the bushes with his trident. The princess sat on a gravestone and was getting irritated, mainly by the paladin's stupid poses and by Alexander constantly jumping in and out of the bushes. The gravestone she was sitting on wasn't too comfortable and there were no alternatives, which didn't help her mood either. Finally, it got dark.

  "We should be quiet now and wait for the wolf to appear," Arthaxiom said. "That also meant you, Alexander," he added. "Could you please stop whatever you are doing and come wait in ambush with us?"

  "But I think I found an ermine den!" the dwarf protested.

  "What are you doing with that den?" Gaduria asked.

  "Ummm... I'm sticking my hand into it... AAAAH! It bit me!" he screamed, got up and started sucking on his wounded finger.

  "Serves you well. Why on earth were you sticking your hand inside it?"

  "Touching an ermine brings good luck!"

  "And being bitten by one brings rabies!"

  "Be quiet, both of you!" Arthaxiom got irritated. "We are supposed to be ambushing, not quarrelling."

  "I'd quarrel, but I have no crossbow," Alexander replied.

  "Oooooooh!" something wailed. "That was a hoooooorrible pun!"

  "Zounds! A ghost!" the paladin exclaimed and jumped back.

  "No no no," Alexander disagreed. "I think it is a spectre. Spectres go oooooh, ghosts go more like aaaaaah."

  "How do you know?" Gaduria asked.

  "My grandma told me. I know all about incorporeal beings. Wights for example go uwaaaaaah and sometimes clank their chains, and wraiths..."

  "Sorry to interrupt," the paladin interrupted, "but there is a ghost scaring us right now. Or a spectre maybe."

  "Yeeeees! Be pooooolite and get scaaaared, will yooooou?" it wailed.

  "I was recently almost sacrificed to... something, I guess." Gaduria wasn't really sure what they had been trying to sacrifice her to. "Also I talked to a giant deer, a snake with badger pr
oblems, and now I'm visiting an old cemetery with a Heroic lunatic and his hyperactive sidekick and you expect me to be afraid of something wailing at me?"

  "I wanted to be scared but I got distracted," the dwarf replied. "Sorry."

  "Daaaaaamn," the spectre wailed sadly and floated into plain view.

  "You look like a dead man," Alexander said. It did indeed. Apart from being bluish, half-transparent and floating above the ground, it looked like a peasant. Slightly decomposing one. It even had a rake.

  "Becaaaaaaause I aaaaam a deeeeead maaaaan!"

  "Ah. Right. Sorry," the dwarf apologised again.

  "Youuuuu aaaaaare forgiiiiiiiven. Leeeeeet's geeeeet tooooo buuuuuusineeeeeess noooooow," the peasant spectre wailed again. "Whyyyy doooo yooou distuuuuuurb ooooour cemeeeetery, moooooortals?"

  "We are on a quest to stop the Valkyrie Wolf!" Arthaxiom exclaimed.

  "Joooooooy!" the spectre wailed sadly.

  "You are confusing me," Gaduria said. "You sound sad but you say you're happy?"

  "Youuuuu tryyyy soundiiiing haaaaaappy wheeeen youuuu're deeeeead! Iiiii aaaaam haaaappy becaaaaause iiiiit's thaaaat daaaaaamn woooolf thaaaat preveeeents uuuuus froooom reeeeesting iiiiiin peeeeeeace! Iiiiit iiiiis theeee cuuuurse ooof theee woooolf!"

  "So now we know why it is haunted and cursed," Gaduria said. "Now only 'of pain' is left."

  "It is of PAAAAAAAAAIN!" Arthaxiom corrected.

  "Weeee're in PAAAAAAAAAIN!" the spectre wailed.

  "Yeeeeeeeees!" other wailing voices confirmed.

  "And that ermine bite is quite painful too," the dwarf added.

  "Stop being lame!" Gaduria demanded.

  "But it is painful! Have one bite you and you'll see!"

  "I'm not stupid enough to get willingly bitten by an ermine, thank you very much!"

  "You will chase away the wolf by your bickering!" Arthaxiom berated them.

  "Doooooon't woooooorry," the spectre wailed. "Heeeee liiiiikes aaaaaaudieeeenceeee."

  "SheeeeeeeeEEEEE!" the wolf jumped on a nearby tomb slab and sang. She was a magnificent animal, twice as big as an usual wolf. Her silver fur shone in the moonlight. On her had there was a small horned helmet with two blond ponytails coming from underneath it. "I'm a female wo-olf, short and stout, here's my horned helmet, and here's my snout!" the Valkyrie Wolf sang and grinned.

  "Noooooooo!" all the ghosts and spectres moaned and floated away. Unfortunately for them, they couldn't float too far away, because they were tied to the cursed cemetery. They knew that all too well, yet they tried to float away every time. Nothing better to do, really.