“I heard it was a Seaward bastard who started the blood flowing, after Lord Gregory killed their fighter,” Sir William said.
The mention of the Lion Lord caused a long moment of head shaking reverie as they all thought about the much loved, and greatly missed Lord of Lake Bottom.
“He was a fine man,” Lord Ellrich slurred. He raised his flagon up in toast. “To a fair and noble warrior, who will be sorely missed.”
“Aye, he was that,” Sir William added.
“Here, here,” the others agreed.
“They say ol’ King Jarrek is already holed up in that castle fortress of his, like a scared rabbit.” Sir William changed the subject before the loss of Lord Gregory ruined the mood of the evening completely.
“Those Redwolves like to snarl and bark a lot, but when it comes time to really fight, what do they do, but run like curs.”
This came from Captain Munst, who was obviously the least intoxicated of them. He had only been sipping at his goblet while the other men had been drinking deeply. He had three daughters, and an anxious wife at home. With the loss of manpower along the riverfront, he was sure that he wouldn’t get another chance like this for a good long while. Always traveling from outpost to outpost limited his time here. He had the chance this night to go and see them, and he wasn’t about to come home to them in a drunken stupor.
“If they had policed the festival like they were supposed to,” Munst continued, “then none of this would’ve happened. They brought it upon themselves.”
“THAT FOOL’S PUPPET GLENDAR!” Lord Ellrich roared out quite loudly.
Only here in his home, with these men whom he trusted completely, would he speak what was truly on his mind.
“He and Lord Brach would’ve found a reason to go after Wildermont sooner or later. They’ve been scheming on it since long before King Balton died.”
“Another great man who will be sorely missed,” said Captain Munst, hoping to detour his Liege Lord’s treasonous line of thought, before it went too far. “To good King Balton,” he toasted. “May he lie with the gods for all eternity.”
“Agreed,” the others chimed in, getting the drift of Captain Munst’s intention.
None of them wanted to find out what their fate would be if Lord Ellrich got his head spiked for being treasonous against the new king. They had all heard the rumors about how the bailey yards, and the garden gates of Lakeside Castle were sporting the heads of those who so much as irritated young Glendar. It was also said that Lord Brach had spies everywhere. Between the resourceful Northern Lord, and the King’s strange wizard, Captain Munst feared that Glendar’s ears might be privy to the words Lord Ellrich spoke, even here in his own stronghold.
Sir William started to speak, but the wooden fireplace cover fell flat onto the stone floor with a sudden and resounding, WHACK!
Lord Ellrich didn’t seem to notice, but Captain Layson and Sir William both snapped their heads around, instinctually alarmed by the sound.
Captain Munst, who was at the foot of the table, and had his back to the hearth, chose to gauge the reaction of the others, instead of twisting in his chair. Only when Captain Layson’s brows narrowed over squinting, quizzical eyes, and when he stood and strode towards the sound, did Captain Munst’s curiosity get the better of him.
“What caused that?” he asked, as he made to join Captain Layson’s investigation.
Lord Ellrich noticed them, and became only mildly concerned.
“Probably the wind,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Leave it be.”
“What in the name of –?” Captain Layson’s voice was cut short, as he leapt back from a cloud of soot that erupted suddenly from the back of the stone recess.
“It’s a fargin Widow Worm!” Captain Munst yelled, when he saw the venomous marsh lizard.
It was as long as his leg, covered in grey ash, and it was already streaking across the floor. It leapt sideways into Captain Munst’s empty chair, paused for half a heartbeat, then jumped onto the foot of the table, and shot full speed across it towards Lord Ellrich’s wide eyed jiggling head.
As if he were the only man in the room, the determined thing came at the oversized Lord of Settsted. Its claws and teeth were about to find flesh, but Sir William brought his dagger down, and pinned the Widow Worm through its back to the wooden table. Its vicious, toothy maw snapped shut only a hair’s breadth from Lord Ellrich’s face. It lurched and scrabbled in place, its claws seeking purchase on the well used, but polished surface of the table board. It snapped, writhed, and twisted, still trying to get at the huge man, as if it had no other purpose than to sink its teeth into him. Its tail whipped around, and sent the remainder of a serving platter clattering to the floor, and managed to knock over the candelabra; but its thrashing was in vain. The old Weapon Master’s dagger held it fast.
Thump! Thump! Thump!