Lost in Glory

  "Ow! My ears!" Alexander complained. Gaduria wasn't as scarce with words.

  "That was the most weaseldamnawful song I have ever heard, and there were only two lines of it!"

  "Slightly off-key, but not that bad," the paladin stated. As a Hero he was immune to bad singing. Heroes have to be, just in case some musically-challenged peasants sing about them.

  "Why thank you, sweetie," the Valkyrie Wolf grinned at Arthaxiom. "As for the rest of you, I'll let you know I'm still in training. Practice makes perfect, you know! Thank you for being my test audience! Especially the newcomers, I see you came from afar just to listen to me!"

  "Don't you see that these poor ghosts can't take it anymore?" Gaduria pointed out.

  "Oh, they're just teasing! See how they like it!" The Valkyrie Wolf made a few strange-looking moves that were probably supposed to be some sort of dancing and sang again. "Never gonna beat you up, never gonna chase you down, never gonna eat your face and digest it! Never gonna chew your leg..."

  Gaduria and Alexander covered their ears. The ghosts as being incorporeal couldn't do even that. The paladin didn't really mind.

  "Kill it!" Gaduria shouted. "What are you waiting for?!"

  "I cannot kill a wolf for singing," Arthaxiom replied.

  "Kill it for being a wolf then!"

  "It is not a good reason..."

  "Wolves are evil!"

  "It is a female wolf, female wolves are not evil."

  "Aaaargh! You have a quest, don't you?!"

  "Killing is not the only method of questing."

  Meanwhile the Valkyrie Wolf finished her song. The paladin considered his options and got a flash of divine inspiration, or so he believed at least. It might have as well been a completely random thought. "You know, if you want to get even better, maybe you should seek some magical help?"

  "Oh, I would, I would, but where to find it?"

  "Well, I know a certain hermit, who might know about a certain artefact... and he might be musical himself, you never know! I distinctly remember he unleashed quite a melodious shriek when I surprised him."

  "Oh that would be marvellous! Marvellous!"

  "He lives in a cave in the Northern Wilderness."

  "Splendid! And off I go! See you, sweetie!"

  The Valkyrie Wolf vanished into the night like a phantom.

  "That was... surprisingly mature of you," Alexander said.

  "Thank you, my friend. Heroism has many facets."

  "But shouldn't have you given a bit more detailed instructions? The Northern Wilderness is sorta large, you know."

  "You cannot expect me to spend all night giving directions! I do not expect the Valkyrie Wolf to get lost. She will find her way."

  "All right. But why the hermit?"

  "He told me he knows where the Singing Axe of Heavens is. I was not interested, but the Valkyrie Wolf might be. I remember it well, because it sounded like a quest hook."

  "Ah. The Singing Axe of Heavens. It is a common mistake. It's really the Swinging Axe of Heavens."

  "Oh." Arthaxiom saddened rapidly. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. My grandma told me so."

  "Even if it is singing, not swinging, how do you expect a wolf to wield it, genius?" Gaduria pointed out. "And what is she supposed to do with it anyway? Sing in a duet?"

  "Must you depress me so?!" the Hero shouted in desperation.

  "Wooooooorst. Queeeeest hoooooook. Eveeeeeer," the spectre moaned.

  "Quiet, you!"

  ***

  In the end, the High Lords ceased shouting at one another. It was not because they regained their senses, or because they decided their bickering was pointless. They simply got tired.

  "Shall we proceed?" the Master of Ceremony asked. They weakly nodded. They somehow expected the Master of Ceremony to produce a list and read from it, but no. He was doing it from memory. They listened as he went through biographies of each of the forty-three candidates for the most important job around. It was pure torture. They had to sit through not only biographies of the candidates, but also of their mothers and fathers. And grandparents from both sides. And everyone on the line connecting the candidate to the deceased Emperor's family. It also meant that some people were mentioned a few times. The Master of Ceremony didn't have an ounce of mercy and recited the whole biography each time. Because of this, the High Lords had the pleasure of hearing about Lady Arghgahgatha Glowinghorse's prize-winning dancing hamsters five times, and about that one time when Lord Themisoeles Roughrat had his left eye pecked out by his own falcon six times. These were among the rarely occurring somewhat interesting events. Most were completely mundane, like births, marriages, deaths, candlelight suppers, mime performances... By the end of the litany the High Lords were barely awake.

  Duke Thinoak was half-lying in his chair, his eyes almost closed and a bit of dribble was coming from his open mouth. Count Blueparrot was slumped forward, with his head lying on the table. If he was just tired, passed out or dead nobody could say. He usually resembled a vulture, and now he resembled a deceased one. The Earl held his hands together and appeared to be praying. Philigree was smiling, but it was neither his usual joyful smile, nor his even more usual sarcastic smile. It was an awful forced rictus, most likely indicating that the Hiwelthadt could snap any second. Baron Oxrabbit didn't want to surrender to boredom, so he amused himself by drawing pictures. As he had nothing to draw with, he used his fingernails, and as he had nothing to draw on, he used the table surface. Roseduck had nothing better to do, so during the speech he had been observing the emerging works of art. The end result was a heart pierced by an arrow. And by a sword. And by a halberd. There was also a huge whale. The General suspected it was the artist's rendition of the Duke. The next element was an after-effect of writing lessons the Baron had had a long time ago: a huge inscription saying 'OXXRABIT WAZ HEAR'. It was surrounded by some random flowers. The final element of the doodles was a rather rectangular moose. It appeared to be dancing, or possibly having an epilepsy attack.

  "...and this concludes the presentation of the candidates." In a rare occurrence of unanimity all of the lords suddenly looked a lot happier and a bit more lively. Only a bit, because one simply cannot shrug off all of that in a second. Only the Marquis seemed completely unaffected. He seemed to be able to equally ignore anything, whether it was a bunch of dancing whores or a discussion about differences between types of celery. "If any of you has any questions concerning the candidates and their genealogy, feel free to ask."

  All the eyes were pointed at the Hiwelthadt. "What? Do you expect me to ask a stupid question that would cause another hour of torment?" he asked weakly.

  "Yes," the Duke simply answered.

  "Wrong. I hate you, but I like myself more than I hate you."

  "If there are no questions, we can either continue with the proceedings or end them for today."

  "End them!" the Count shouted, and the other lords nodded in agreement. Thus ended the third day of the proceedings.

  ***

  "The woooooolf is goooooone. Weeeee thaaaaank yooooou. Noooow weeee caaaaan reeest."

  "It was our pleasure," the paladin replied graciously. Gaduria wasn't that gracious.

  "Nothing pleasant about that. My ears were raped!"

  "Aaaaas aaaa rewaaaard, we will giiiiive yooooou a maaaaagicaaaaal riiiiing!"

  "That's nice," Gaduria replied.

  "We graciously accept," the Hero said.

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

  "Well? Hand it over!" Gaduria was a bit impatient. She wanted to leave this place just in case something else would appear and sing. "We don't have all eternity like you, you know."

  "Weeeell weeee areeee sooooort oooof iiiiincoooorpoooooreeeeeal, yooooou knoooooow. Noooo goooood aaaaat haaaandiiiiing thiiiings ooooover!"

  "So how are you going to give it to us?"

  "Iiiiiit iiiiiiis iiiiiin thiiiiiird graaaaaave toooooo yoooooour leeeeeeeft."

  "Do you expect us to dig
it out?!"

  "Yeeeeeees."

  They walked to the grave.

  "Theeeee ooooother leeeeft!"

  They walked to the correct grave and the spectre spectered away.

  "All right, let's dig!" the paladin said. "Alexander, do you have a shovel?"

  The dwarf gave Arthaxiom s strange look. "I left it at home today."

  "Pickaxe?"

  "As well."

  "So you are a dwarf with neither a shovel nor a pickaxe?"

  "No." Alexander was beginning to lose his patience. He was being stereotyped. Again. "I am a dwarf-impersonating gnome with neither a shovel nor a pickaxe."

  There was a ghastly sigh from behind a nearby tombstone. "Theeeeeere iiiiis aaaaa shooooovel iiiiin theeeee busheeeeees," the ghost wailed. Arthaxiom looked. There was one there indeed.

  "It wasn't there when I poked around before!" Alexander complained.

  "Iiiiit gooooot theeeeeere iiiiiin aaaaaa mysteeeeeeerious waaaaay."

  "Fair enough."

  The paladin started digging. Gaduria and Alexander were sitting on a nearby gravestone and watching him dig. It was taking him quite a while and even a Hero can get tired of digging.

  "Alexander, maybe you could help?"

  "No, I could not. I'm cross with you because you stereotyped me!"

  "I apologise."

  "You apologise because you want me to help. You're out of luck."

  The paladin sighed and continued digging.

  "By the way, don't you think that digging up graves is evil or something?" Gaduria inquired.

  "Not if a ghost tells you to do that," the paladin replied.

  "You don't even know if it is this particular ghost's grave."

  "Don't be silly, ghosts don't lie."

  "Yes, it's not like they have beds," Alexander interjected. Nobody laughed. "Hey, it's a joke! They don't lie! Get it?" There was an awkward pause. "I guess not."

  The paladin finally dug out an old wooden coffin. Only then did his companions join him. He opened the coffin, or, to be precise, he tore off the lid. Inside, there was a skeleton. The skeleton was rather ordinary, apart from a ring on one of its fingers. In spite of being inside a coffin with decomposing body and in spite of it being the middle of the night, the ring shone brightly. It was golden, encrusted with red jewels, rubies probably.

  "MINE!" Gaduria shouted, pushed the others away and snatched the ring from the skeletal finger. "Mine mine mine! My preciousssssss!" She put the ring on her own finger. "Fits perfectly!"

  "What does it do?" Arthaxiom asked.

  "It is being pretty!"

  ***

  On the fourth day the Master of Ceremony finally described how the election process was supposed to work. General Roseduck already knew that, because he did some reading beforehand. He was a bit curious if others did too.

  "Each candidate I presented yesterday is eligible to become our next Emperor. Four votes are needed. Every High Lord has a vote. In order to start a vote on a candidate, a High Lord must submit a candidature, and one other High Lord must second it. Each High Lord may successfully submit only one candidate a day and no more than four in every ten day period. After every ten day period there are three days of break."

  "What?!" Duke Thinoak got up in anger. "With these rules it will take months!"

  "The choice of the Emperor is not one to be made hastily," the Master of Ceremony explained. "Also, I need to note that any High Lord leaving the capital before the election is concluded will be charged with high treason, sentenced to death and executed. No exceptions."

  "Nobody would dare to carry that out!" the Count protested.

  "Perhaps. But that includes stripping of all titles and possessions. Execution can come later."

  "What an idiot devised these silly rules?!" The Duke was rather upset with the rules.

  "Venerable Cruytus, the Master of Ceremony of Emperor Cassius the Fourth," General Roseduck said. "Devising rules and regulations was his hobby, and his Emperor was happy to add them to the Codex. His greatest achievements were: the Ferret Fondling Edict of 285, Tower Erecting Guidelines of 287, Limitations of Spring Moat Digging..."

  "Shut up, Roseduck!" the Duke snapped at him.

  "No need to shout, I was just trying to be helpful."

  "I don't trust you!"

  "You don't trust anyone!" the Count berated him.

  "For good reason!"

  "I think he trusts his chair," Philigree joked.

  "Trust the Lord of Light," Earl preached.

  "Trust the Sword of Might!" the Baron rhymed.

  "Shut! Up!" The Duke was losing it.

  "Is it your favourite saying now?" Philigree asked. "Or is it still 'Quick, bring more lard'?"

  "Bzsgftf!" the Duke gurgled in fury.

  "When I was young, we ate lard with lardles," the Marquis said, returning to reality for a second. Sort of.

  "SHUT! UP!"

  "My great grand uncle once shouted 'shut up' so loud that blood squirted from his ears," the Marquis added. "His wife was not amused."

  "Because the blood squirted on her?" Philigree asked.

  "No, because he was a really ugly fountain."

  "SHUT! UP! SHUT! UP! SHUT! UP! I propose to vote on Menerrick Housegoose!"

  "Menerrick is your nephew!" the Count pointed out.

  "It is only one of his many virtues, yes."

  "Let me rephrase that. I am NOT voting for Menerrick BECAUSE he is your nephew!"

  "Good! I don't need your vote!"

  "Let me rephrase that again. I am suggesting to OTHERS that they shouldn't vote for Menerrick because he is your nephew."

  "I don't recall asking you for opinion. I submitted his candidature!"

  "Apologies, but you did not. You need to do that properly." The Master of Ceremony wasn't going to allow breaches of protocol.

  "FINE! I, Duke Bartholomeus Theodoricus Angus Thinoak, High Lord of the Empire, submit the candidature of Menerrick Idontremember Hisothernames Housegoose to become the next Emperor."

  "The candidature of Menerrick Idonrembur Hisothermus Housegoose has been submitted. Will anyone second the motion?"

  "No. He's his nephew."

  "He's not holy enough."

  "It's not funny enough."

  "I don't care."

  "I don't know what's going on."

  "I second the motion."

  "WHAT?!"

  "I, General Eneumerius Attilius Buonaparth Roseduck, High Lord Commander, second the motion," Roseduck repeated, surprising everyone. Especially the Duke.

  "Very well. The motion passed. All in favour of having Menerrick Idonrembur Hisothermus Housegoose as our new Emperor please raise a hand."

  Only hands of the Duke and the General rose.

  "Two votes for Menerrick, five votes against. Menerrick is not chosen."

  "Why did you vote for him?!" the Duke challenged Roseduck.

  "You didn't want me to?"

  "I did! But I don't trust you!"

  "Here he goes again!" the Count complained.

  "May the Lord of Light bring some trust upon thee."

  "AAAAAARGH!" Thinoak was reduced to intelligible screaming.

  "Don't eat the table! Don't eat the table! We still need it!" the Hiwelthadt appealed.

  "I ate a table once. No good," Baron Oxrabbit commented.

  "When I was young, tables ate lords," Marquis de Shaggysheep remarked.

  "Really?" the Count enquired.

  "No. But it seemed like a good thing to say."

  "Are there any other candidatures?"

  Baron Oxrabbit stood up. "Yes. I propose Eusebius the Sneaky Fox!" he said triumphantly.

  "WHAT?!" a few lords shouted in unison.

  "Even disregarding the fact that he is not on my list, you should note that Eusebius was a legendary Hero. If he even existed. If he did indeed exist, he died long ago," the Master of Ceremony explained.

  "Not a problem! We should elect him, find his body and resurrect him! I will lea
d the expedition! He's just the man we need! He'd ride them llamas!"

  General Roseduck smiled. That would be a perfect distraction. Too bad nobody would agree to that crazy idea. He himself didn't want to, it would be way too blatant. He was pushing it when he voted for Menerrick, but he simply couldn't resist seeing Thinoak go nuts. Again. Of course, it was the Duke who first expressed general feelings towards the Baron's idea.

  "Oxrabbit, you're an idiot!"

  "And you... you... you are fat!" The Baron wasn't a Master Insulter, but the most obvious ones were perfect for the Duke. He couldn't even deny this one. So he decided to spin it around.

  "You are more dumb than I am fat!"

  "For that I should challenge you to a duel!"

  "Jousting! Jousting!" Philigree chanted.

  "He'd break a horse!" the Count objected.

  "My point exactly! It would be hilarious!"

  "I would NOT break a horse!"

  "Because you wouldn't be able to get on it!" the Count jeered.

  "He wouldn't even try, it would run away at first sight of him!" Philigree was obviously enjoying himself.

  "I've ridden horses before I'll let you know!"

  "May the Lord of Light take mercy on these poor animals."

  "May the Lord of Light give me patience so that I resist the temptation to smash your head with a chair!" the Count chimed in.

  "If not for the Caster of Memory here, I'd smack YOUR head with a chair," the Baron defended the Earl. For some reason, he decided it wasn't threatening enough. "With Thinoak's chair!"

  "Leave my chair out of it!" The Duke looked around for something to change the topic. "Roseduck! What are you so happy about?!"

  "Just smiling to my thoughts. Don't mind me." He was smiling to his thoughts indeed. Particularly to the one about leaving Vannard for a few minutes with the High Lords. Highlordly quarrels were all fun and games, but the General started developing a splitting headache.

  "I will mind you! Stop smiling! I hate you and I don't want to see you happy!"

  Roseduck at the point had quite enough. So far he was keeping quiet and letting the proceedings run their course. His goal was to avoid insulting the other lords, no need to remind them that they hated him. But his relationship with Thinoak couldn't get any worse, and he didn't want the others to see him as a pushover...

  "So I suggest you pluck your eyes out! Or maybe ask lord Roughrat's descendants if they still have that falcon!"

  "Good one, Ducky!" the Hiwelthadt praised. Roseduck wondered if he had come up with that nickname himself or did Vannard get creative in spreading it. Anyway, he wasn't too worried about the rest of the lords using it. They had other names for him.