Greetings, my friends and fellow Britannians!
I suppose that by now, you've had more than ample opportunity to view our Royal Council's decree, forming for yourself an opinion regarding the "coronation" of our new Lord and Liege, His Highness the King Casca. Elf Friend and Thieves Bane, they call him in the northlands. If you have not, then I dare say, have you been living under a rubble rock for the past week? Or, perhaps you've been chasing futons throughout the eastern isles? Alas, I should send Mama Faith after the whole lot of you. Her Cavorting Club'll teach ye a lesson you'll not soon forget.
So, where was I? Ah, yes! Our new king.
This past winters eve, I've had the pleasure of watching our Elvin liege place the Crown of Kings atop his brow. 'Twas an interesting sight to behold; certainly not the traditional ceremony you might've expected from the Lord of Britannia; no less one standing in the very City of Kings. Indeed, such self-coronations are uncommon in recent history; considered the blasphemous practice of the Heathen Kings of Old. A warrior's coronation. A conqueror's coronation.
Yet, it is not Casca whom I seek to dwell upon. You shall certainly be hearing more about him, from both the Stratics and Britannian Heralds; along with sketches and the like. I seek not to form your opinion for you; but even the most loyal Britannian must question such threatening words being bandied about so casually. Instead, I wish to focus upon something that I discovered shortly after Casca and Sherry departed.
You may very well say, the crowd was shocked by what they had just witnessed. The crowd argued amongst itself; some tossing flowers atop the podium, others crying for the return of Lord British. Still, others screamed that they needed no king; and more than bloodied nose was to be found departing the foregates. I noticed an old, grey-robed man leaning on some strange wizarding staff; consulting with a raven-haired swordsman. I couldn't make out the words, but he seemed troubled. They were soon joined by a fair-haired noblewoman. The only piece of their conversation I divulged was when Handalf the Chicken King squawked: "Clerists?"
I proceeded down to the end of the bridge, intent on visiting Castle Britannia to seek an interview. It was there that I spied none other than the approach of Mistress Aino. I had been hoping for an interview; but the moment the crowd spotted her, I was nearly trampled. The stampede of bodies surrounding her, chatting her up and asking questions. In the minutes that followed, the crowd calmed; the young woman taking questions with reporters from the Stratics Herald and that golden-haired woman. The grey-bearded man stood behind them, silently puffing on his long wooden pipe. What a nasty habit!
Nevertheless, I just got close enough to hear tidbits of the conversation.
"Alas, I fear that I must depart," he said with a hint of urgency. "I shall speak with thee anon, Mistress Nystad."
Lady Aino nodded her head in response. The old man looked to the other noblewoman - the gaze clearly conveying something of importance, for she nodded silently in response. The old man turned, striding with the swiftness of a man half his age to his great white stallion; the steed patiently waiting at the base of Locke's Crag. He leapt upon the war horse, and galloped off down the road.
I gazed back at the crowd. Clearly, I was not going to get the exclusive interview now. Too many people. Too many sensitive subjects to discuss. On the other hand, the old man might know something? Old men were usually senile, but what else was I going to do? So, I produced an onyx figurine from my pouch; tossing it to the ground at my feet. Poof! An ethereal unicorn stood before me. I leapt atop the translucent beast's back - somewhat unnerved by my ability to peer into the beast's innards (where in the name of Hythloth did that thing find carrots?) - and spurred it into a gallop. I wheeled around the corner of the Bardic Conservatory, galloping south in the direction that I had seen the old man charge off. I would have to ride like a speedhacker if I hoped to catch up with this old conjurer.
I followed his trail for nearly an hour. I thought that I had lost him more than once, only to catch a glimpse of the grey old man astride his white stallion some fair distance away. Past the hamlet of Paws we galloped, down past the Britanny Farms and beyond. Through the woodlands for what seemed like hours, until at last I caught the old man dismounting his horse beside a small pool of water. The white stallion bent its thick neck, dipping its nose into the frigid snowmelt to drink.
I dismounted my own ethereal stallion, commanding the beast to return to the Ethereal Void from whence it came. I collected the onyx figurine, and strode just to the edge of the tree line. I stopped. The old man had found a book on the ground, dusting its cover.
He stood there for a moment, reading the text, before carefully setting it back upon the ground. Patting his horses neck, he lept upon its back, and shifted his gaze into my direction. I froze. Drats, discovered again!
"You there," I choked. "I am with the Paws Village Herald. I would like to interview you."
The man raised an eyebrow, regarding me silently for a moment.
"You know...to get your thoughts on the recent coronation of King Casca!"
"I fear that time is something I do not have to spare right now, lad." The stallion snorted; and somehow I got the sense that he was responding to the old wizard. "I have business in Avalon!" With that, he dug his heels in; the massive war horse bellowing loudly as it sprung into a full run.
I had no other option, but to inspect this dust-covered and discarded notebook. I could return to Britain; but Lady Aino was probably long gone. I would break my neck and lame even my ethereal stallion if I tried catching up with that old conjurer. With a sigh, I approached the book, kicking the cover open.
I nearly fainted then. The book was missing several pages, but it was a journal. Scribbled on the weather stained parchment was the title: "The Magic Mirror" by none other than Kullervo Nystad. So, the rumors are true! Aino does have a brother. Or could this be a hoax? A ruse, meant to lead me on some wild goose chase? I don't know.
I copied the contents of the entry, and reproduced it here for you to read:
With consideration to the fierce competition as of late, I shall keep the location of this book a mystery; unless, of course you can solve my riddle. "The information you seek lay behind the titaness. Just be careful. You wouldn't want that forbidden fruit to give you a concussion"
Happy Hunting!
Malthon Harper,
The 17th of Hammer, 2009.
Paws Village Herald
The 17th of Hammer, 2009.
Paws Village Herald