TWO HEADS TWO SPIKES (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga) (24 page)

BOOK: TWO HEADS TWO SPIKES (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga)
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“Nuthin’ that has nuthin’ to do with you, so why don’t you piss off,” the drunken man exclaimed as he staggered away from Penrose.

Something exploded inside Penrose. His entire body overheated and he felt the same anger as the night of the royal wedding.

“Don’t you recognize me?” Penrose asked with a clenched jaw.

“I don’t know you, pretty boy.”

This just further enraged Penrose. “I am the man who is going to kill you,” Penrose whispered.

“Huh,” the drunk responded.

“Come closer, you can see and hear me better,” Penrose lured him in.

The man stumbled over to Penrose and didn’t even notice him pull his knife. Penrose stabbed the man in the stomach.

“I said I am the man who is going to kill you. Look at me. Look into my eyes,” Penrose said with a sick smile on his face.

The man wailed for help, but not loud enough for anyone to respond. Penrose removed the knife, spun around behind the drunkard, and slit his throat. The body crumbled right in front of King Ali-Terry’s statue. Penrose wiped his knife on the dead man’s clothes and calmly headed for his quarters. He scanned the area to make sure no one was around.

I should do this to silence the voices, not when people make me angry. What is wrong with me?

When Penrose arrived at his quarters, he immediately knew something wasn’t right. He always hung a small piece of cloth on top of his door, and that linen sat on the ground in front of the entrance. The King’s Guard had a free standing building that they shared. It was just outside the castle to the north. He pulled his sword and kicked the door open.

Penrose saw a man waiting inside for him, and he hurried in and closed the door.

The naked man lying in the bed just smiled at Penrose.

“Are you mad? I almost killed you,” Penrose exploded, “I should kill you. You could get me killed doing something like this.”

“Settle down, relax for a minute. I just wanted to do something special for you before you leave. I don’t want you to have to visit any whores on your trip,” the nude man said in a soft voice.

The man looked a little younger than Penrose with bright crimson hair. He was pale and pudgy, but Penrose thought he was beautiful. The knight was furious, but his anger started to subside as he looked at Neron Wamhoff, his squire and nephew of the King.

MOVING WEST
 
LEIMUR

Queen Leimur elected to keep a small court. General Rigby sat as her right hand counsel and helped her select the new members. The position traditionally called Grand Courtier fell to the war veteran. Her domestic expert was Harold Ritchie and the leader of foreign affairs was Bero Sandway. The only other members were Pippen Mallory and Birney Ferur. She believed that too many council members would provide too many officials to tamper with. Leimur had hand-picked the few people she believed could resist the temptation of bribery.

The group sat on black painted chairs around a circular marble table. An enormous, black rug covered most of the floor and the light purple walls had been painted just a day ago. Large works of art hung around the room presenting scenes of royal family events from the past. Leimur was in the process of redecorating the entire palace as befitted her new realm.

“We received word from Livingstone today that if we attack from the east, they will attack the southern border. They will also send troops into Goldenfield to help with the south-west attack. My forces will hit them further north and that should be too much for them to handle. So, I will be rounding up the soldiers and heading for Harbor Valley in two days. Soon Harbor Valley will be under our control, but I will need all of you to rule the realm in my stead.”

Bero Sandway was the first to speak, “Are you sure about this, so early into your rule?”

“There is a reason I specifically chose each of you for this responsibility. Deep down, I am a warrior. I knew I would have to leave to conquer for my kingdom and I knew you were the ones to be trusted.”

“We will do the best we can, my Queen,” replied Pippen Mallory.

“Now that city security is under control and Donegal is mired in civil battle, the time to strike is right. But we also need to keep a close eye on the city watch. They are notoriously corrupt and I want this to stop on our command.”

Leimur was ready to get back out on the field. She had already grown weary of palace life. The Capitol attracted unscrupulous people who endlessly thirsted to drink from the chalice of power. So the Queen thought she was in more danger of a knife in her back around the malevolent city of Sevring than on the deadly battlefields.

She thumbed the pommel of her sword and said, “Alright everyone, I thank you. You may leave now.”

As everyone got up from the table, she spoke, “General, I would like a word with you please.”

He quickly sat back down. “So we leave in a few days, huh?” the veteran General asked.

“Well, that is what I need to talk to you about. I need you to stay here to keep everybody in line.” She looked directly into the General’s eyes to let him know that she was serious.

“My Queen, I am not well suited for running a palace,” the General said as he looked down at the table.

“Of course you are. You run a damn army of cold-blooded killers. This is basically the same thing,” she added with a purple-lipped smile.

She got a small smirk out of the General.

“I would just…much rather prefer to go with you,” said General Rigby looking right into her lavender eyes.

“Oh General, enjoy it. Find a nice chambermaid to lick your wounds and scrub you in the bath. You need to recover for the next part of the plan,” she said as the General shifted in his seat.

“Which is?” Rigby asked with a closed eye.

“This stays between us, General. We will conquer Donegal. I will return to get you after we ravage Harbor Valley. By that point Sevring should be stable enough for both of us to leave,” she said.

“If I must, my Queen,” he conceded.

“Oh you must, General,” she said in a lighter tone.

She now rubbed the hilt of her purple dagger that she had used on her father.

Unexpectedly, a guard entered the room. “My Queen, it seems you have a visitor. He would not tell me his name. He only said that you would want to see him.”

“Check him for weapons, then send him in,” the Queen decided.

An older man entered the room with a small gold chest in his hands. He set the box on the table and extended a deep bow of respect to Leimur.

“Queen Leimur, let me first congratulate you on your rise to power. I have brought a gift of good faith.”

“Who are you?” the Queen instantly demanded.

“Oh, how rude of me, I am quite nervous. My name is Ali-Steven Wamhoff,” the man revealed.

“You are…you are the King of Donegal’s twin brother. Are you back in Donegal, and have you been sent by the King?” she sensed a trap.

“No, your grace, I no longer reside in Donegal. I was run out of that kingdom many years ago. But I plan to return soon enough,” he said with a sly smile. “Open your gift, if you will, your grace.”

Queen Leimur Leluc opened the chest to see gold and silver coins with markings from all over the world. “Why are you giving me this? What is it that you want?”

“Well I plan to go back home with a welcome party of trained killers. I have people in place right now to actually strengthen Donegal so invasion will only be inevitable and victory all but sure for only me. If it is perceived as too weak, every kingdom will try to invade. I am a man who prefers to be certain that I will succeed. I stand before you to ask Goldenfield to simply cause some trouble along the border to divert attention away from the Sea of Green. I have the numbers and skill to back it up and I would like for us to be civil neighbors,” he tactfully stated.

Ali-Steven Wamhoff was a fugitive from Donegal. The fifty-thousand gold fox bounty on his head still stood. The King had ended his public grudge with Ali-Steven after he married Emilia. But Ali-Stanley still had to honor his father’s bounty. About two heads or bodies a week were still brought to the king’s castle that people claimed to be that of Ali-Steven. The King had never paid the reward because only a few of the dead men over the years had looked a bit like Ali-Steven, and Count Silzeus never confirmed a match.

The Queen of Goldenfield’s visitor looked like a big oaf, but she had noticed that he moved rather gracefully given his advanced age and size. His graying hair still held onto a hint of red, but the skin on his face was wrinkled and scarred. It looked like someone had sliced him from above his left eye and down across his nose and through the corner of his mouth. The Queen noticed his injured eye color was gray while the normal one was brown.

“If you think this small pile of gold is worth sending my men to be killed assisting someone I have never met, then you do not know me as well as you think,” the Queen sternly said.

“I said that was a gift of good faith. Now that we are friends,
RACOO, DERREX
,” the old man screamed.

Two men entered carrying a huge wooden chest that could have held a grown man’s body. They struggled to get it across the room. The men set the chest on the ground with a heavy thud near the Queen and exited the room. General Rigby monitored the developments as the impromptu meeting continued. Ali-Steven flicked open the lid to show an amazing cache of gold, silver and gemstones. Queen Leimur looked impressed and instantly realized this was a man of motivation. She knew that a large number of men had to die to collect those riches.

“And more will come from your share of the Donegal pillage; of course after it is complete, your grace.” Ali-Steven said with a smile.

“When do you believe that will be?” the Queen quickly fired back.

“Hard to say,” he answered, as he scratched his head, “As you well know war doesn’t always go as expected. Our estimation is a little more than a few months. I want the citizens to welcome us as liberators when we arrive. We would like to handle it much like your recent situation, without a big mess. And if not, we will slay them where they stand,” Ali-Steven said with an intense look on his face.

His serious tone hinted to the Queen that he was too old and tired to play games. Leimur liked this man’s style. He got to the point quickly and seemed ready to rule with brute force.

She studied Ali-Steven as he spoke, “Send a representative with me to see our operation and I can assure you that he will come back with a message that we are more than able.”

“She…”

“Excuse me?” he interrupted.

“I will be sending one of my captains with you, and
SHE
is a woman. Captain Salina will inspect your claims and tell me whether this is a worthy proposition.”

“Then so it shall be, Queen Leimur. There is one other matter I need to speak with you about. It is an emerging issue that could come back to upset your rule,” Ali-Steven warned her.

“And that is?”

“Your sister, your grace,” Ali-Steven replied.

Later that day while she was talking to General Rigby about the strategy for the upcoming attack the guards entered again.

The taller guard said, “My Queen, there is a man here that says you will want to see him.”

“Again? Is it the same man as before?” she asked.

He responded, “No my Queen, he looks very different from that man.”

“Alright, check this one for weapons and send him in, I suppose,” Leimur stated.

She looked at the General and shook her head with a surprised look on her face. A short man with skin deeply tanned by the sun and blue eyes entered the room. He looked skinny under his loose white and red robes. His head was shaved on the sides and back with a small patch of hair shaped like a circle on top of his head.

He wore a close black moustache and his rotten teeth were exposed as he bowed and spoke, “Hello, your grace. I have come to pledge my undying support for your reign as Queen of Goldenfield. My name is Anders Ahittni.” He straightened himself from the bow and nodded at the Queen.

“You stopped. Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” she asked.

“I am a very powerful man from Gama Traka and I believe we can help each other. Right now Donegal is in shambles. I have been involved with Mattingly and Fox Chapel, fanning the flames on both sides of this burning conflict. If we wait a short while, Fox Chapel will weaken Mattingly enough for us to easily conquer the realm,” he said with a slight smile.

She had trouble focusing on anything but the man’s teeth as the meeting went on. “How do I even know that you are the man you say you are?” she questioned.

“Your grace, you can send an official with me. I will show him our six-hundred war ships, our forty-thousand soldiers, and enough gold to sink all those ships. We have the ways and means to take Donegal, but only if we have your support. We can meet in the middle and split the spoils,” he said as he rubbed his hands together.

“Forty-thousand men might not even get you two miles inland,” she said.

“These are not just men who picked up the sword yesterday. These are the best of the best, the Prograggers.” He made a fist and lightly tapped it on the table as he said, “They are worth at least a hundred men, each and every one of them. If you come in from the west, we can roll over their forces like a plow through the field.”

She had heard of the Prograggers and by the look on General Rigby’s face he had heard of them too. They were a fierce fighting force of brutal warriors that were plucked from their families at a young age in Gama Traka in exchange for gold. Most of them were called dragon babies because they were born in the year of the dragon. Gama Traka had a seven-year cycle of birth signs and the dragon was by far the most coveted. These babies were tattooed at birth with the dragon symbol on their left hand.

The other symbols for different years were tattooed onto different areas of the body to avoid confusion. Many people had tried to add a dragon symbol to their left hand because the dragon babies were considered to be favored by God. The impostors could be easily identified because they would still have their original birth tattoo. Not a single man with the dragon birth mark would ever put another symbol on his body; it would rival blasphemy.

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