from her drowsing sleep, and was able to hear his voice. The Queen's lips were seen to move but in her state, Katherine was unable to muster the strength or the words to respond.
“She needs rest, your Majesty,” the court physician cautioned, being one of those to have a restraining hold upon the King's arm; “it is a time of crisis for the Queen, but if she does not have rest then there truly is no hope.”
Defenseless Kingdom
The King departed from the royal chambers in a state that bordered upon a fugue, barely able to recognize his own hands as he stared at them. The last few weeks had taken Daventry from one great tragedy to another as the Kingdom under his guidance; he could not help but to understand and reeled about like a drunkard. Though things were still well for many of the people, and while a great victory had been won upon the field of battle, a victory which would hopefully stand to discourage any other realms from taking advantage of the Kingdom's weakened state, the land had been bereft of a great treasure, by which much of their fortune was assured. There was the feeling that a golden age, hitherto taken largely for granted, was over and that their continued survival would now be a matter of fortune, struggle, and competition upon the battlefield—as it was for those other Kingdoms which had not enjoyed Daventry's advantages.
“O King.” The voice carried to him as he found himself standing in the Great Hall, having barely been aware of reaching it. The sound was strange... but familiar, and the speaker was quite short—one might almost say, Dwarvish... Oh! And indeed, there before King Edward stood Braamfohg ap Forgescythe, and within his hands there was a small, finely carved box of iron, from which emanated a surprisingly pleasant and earthy smell—one might have said a clean smell; it was refreshing for it drove other, more unpleasant odors away, ones that might not previously have been noticed, or in their own turn taken for granted, until they were suddenly and unexpectedly gone. “My King, I am informed of the plight of Her Majesty the Queen,” Braam said. “I have here a box containing two of the golden mushrooms of which I spoke to you. I shall take a token from your household as requested, and I will accept the appointment to your council which you so graciously offered, in exchange for these goodly items: one for planting, and one for the Queen.”
“I shall be forever in your debt!” cried the King, thinking only of the possibility of restoring his wife's good health, and restoring the Kingdom to a state not entirely unlike the one of which they had so greatly benefited until recent events transpired. He took the stairs in a hurry, back up to the royal apartments with Braamfohg following behind. The Dwarf could take the stairs but one at a time, he moved swiftly and fluidly still over the stone surface, seeming almost, to those who watched after, as though he were a part of it; the grace of the Mountain Dwarves was cause for much marveling and wonderment that day.
When they burst back into the royal chambers, it was to a hushed and concerned discussion; the King was greeted with many startled eyes. “Your Majesty—” the royal physician began, but he was not permitted to finish.
“Aside, good sir,” the King commanded; “my Dwarvish friend has returned from the holdings of his people, with the curative caps of which he did promise. Let the name of Braamfohg ap Forgescythe ne'er be forgotten for as long as Daventry stands!” And so, as it happened, it would never be.
“Do see,” the Dwarf said calmly, and without emotion, as he brought one of the bright gold mushroom-caps to touch upon the Queen's lips, “how she nigh immediately begins to improve?” And it was so! Her color returned, her lips darkened, and the Queen was even seen to stir from her torpor, though the simple touch of the reagent was not enough to wake her fully, nor to completely dispel her condition. “This mushroom will grow in dirt, and upon stone. Take this one…” and he held out a hand towards the royal physician, the cap which had brushed the lips of the Queen in hand, “…and brew from it a tea, as she seems not capable of swallowing. Administer the tea delicately, and it will make her well within a day's time. Moreover, I swear to you: she shall never again sicken, and in times to come she shall recover most speedily from any accidental injury or wound. Infection and fever shall be a thing of the past. My people, in ancient times, did become quite wealthy on the trade of products fashioned from this mushroom, tinctures and oils and refined reagents. We enjoy the longest and healthiest lives of all Dwarves. Now, that beneficence is yours to savor as well.”
The mushroom was taken, and one of the Ladies in waiting bustled off in haste to produce a tea. The King, in the meantime, delightedly asked Braamfohg what token of his house the Dwarf wished to take back to his people.
“Oh good King,” Braamfohg replied, his face unreadable through the thick tresses of his most impressive beard, “I am bidden to return with your father's shield, as is customary among my people. It shall occupy a place of high honor, while a dwarf-forged shield of impenetrable thickness shall be carried to you forthwith as a replacement.”
The advisers murmured, and the King felt his knees weakening, as memories of his dealings with Magus Deveureaux returned to him. “Say it not,” Edward cried, “for that item is very much precious to me, and valued by my kingdom.”
“Would there be meaning to our exchange, if it were not?” The Dwarf asked, his face growing irate. “You place so little value upon the life of your Queen and the future well-being of your people that you would refuse to honor your word?” Braamfohg turned away, making as if to withdraw with the remaining mushroom but the King, mindful of legends that described the recalcitrant nature of the dwarvish race, called for him to stop.
“Nay,” spake King Edward, “I shall not refuse to honor my word; forgive my lapse in courtesy noble Braamfohg. Your peoples' allegiance is of great import to me, and together our people shall prosper. You shall have the shield of my father; I shall retrieve it for you.”
“Oh King,” Braamfohg replied, “I thank you, as do my people, and as yours soon shall. May you enjoy many healthy years upon the throne of the Kingdom of Daventry, with the Queen by your side.”
The dwarf was led from the chamber by the King, who took him down to the armory, and retrieved his father's shield from its position of honor. Facing away from Braamfohg, he did not see the glittering look of greed that crossed the dwarf's face at the sight of the magical shield, nor the way that the dwarf looked disgustedly upon the arms and armor which filled the royal armory, all of which was assuredly of most high quality. Such was not Mountain Dwarf behavior, but alas, the King did miss it, and he gave the dwarf that most precious protection, which the kingdom had remaining unto it.
“Do not despair, oh King,” Braamfohg said, “for even among my people, word has spread of your recent great victory against the Cantonese forces. Surely, none shall challenge the might of Daventry upon the battlefield for many a coming year.” With that, the dwarf bowed, turned, and made his way alone from the castle. A strange creature, bedecked with saddle and saddle-bags, awaited him outside, looking like naught so much as a giant lizard. It moved very quickly, upon six splayed legs, and even as King Edward watched in dismay, it was soon vanished.
The King passed the other golden mushroom to one of his messengers, with instructions that it be taken to the largest of the many farms outside of the capital, and planted in their biggest field, assuring the farmer that he would be paid many times the price of any other crop for its cultivation. Edward then took to his throne, sitting upon it in wait of news from the physicians upstairs in the royal tower, not daring to hope any further for good fortune.
He did not have long to wait.
“My King!” The royal physician came hurtling down the stairs in a frenzy causing Edward to leap to his feet. “My King, come quickly!” So great was his fright that the King was seized with sudden fear, and he took off right past his learned physician, taking the stairs several at once, just as he had done previously when first the Queen had been heard to cry out in alarm.
He burst into their tower apartments to see the love of his life awake... but now her ski
n was ashen, her lips were blue, and her eyes were closed... for she no longer possessed the strength to open them. An empty bowl lay on the nightstand beside the bed in which she was soon seen to be dying, and a few drops of golden liquid were even then soaking into the wood. As the King stared at them, gripped by a sense of fascinated horror, they discolored the wood, turning it black and ugly.
“It is poison!” cried the anguished King.
Master Falkreath approached gingerly, for he was conscious of King Edward's mood. “My King,” he said somberly, “I found this book within your library. It is an ancient and obscure tome, which you would’ve ne'er had cause to read, as it does things which most have come to see as simple fairy-tales. It... describes some of our most ancient and once-enduring allegiances with the folk of other realms...” His voice trailed off.
The King seized the book and stared. In it, he saw a depiction of a Mountain Dwarf. The individual represented appeared to be shown as taller than that of the figure of Braamfohg ap Forgescythe, and there was mention of the Mountain Dwarves maintaining great overland trade-routes through the use of a sturdy breed of pony. “That... is, not, what I