Winds of Fate Page 16

  “I meant nothing of it.” I needed to rectify the situation. Since the könig seemed to be a very simple guy, it wouldn’t be long before he’d grab an ax off the wall and send me back to the respawn point in my underwear.

  “Besides, I could tell you all the same things about kids these days—my father’s always saying the same thing.”

  “I swear, your father sounds like a fine man,” the könig replied, throwing back some more ale. “If he ever happens by these parts, tell him to drop by and have a drink with me.”

  The odd part was that I thought he and the wild—if emotional—Northerner in front of me would have hit it off. It would have been an absurd picture, but still…

  His ale finished (I tried it; it was bitter and thick somehow), he told me that Ulfrida had left the chamber to go to sleep. She didn’t make any noise that night, as the könig had been up drinking until practically morning and would definitely have heard her fighting off attackers.

  “Why do you think she would have fought back?” I asked.

  “Ha!” The könig pointed a finger at me and laughed deeply. “Because she’s my Ulfrida. It’s a rare warrior that will risk taking her on in single combat. She’s good with a weapon, too, since I taught her myself, so nobody could have gotten the jump and tied her up while she was asleep. No-no, my friend, this was something different: magic.”

  “It’s true,” confirmed Gunther. “I’ve seen Ulfrida myself, and she wouldn’t be easy to kidnap.”

  “So, there you have it. My daughter is gone, and nobody heard or saw a thing, damn it!” the king exclaimed sadly before suddenly yelling in rage. “Parasites! Fools! Spawn of Nidhogg! I sent off ten brigades to search the surroundings, and nobody found anything!”

  You completed a quest: A Father’s Grief

  Reward:

  500 experience

  +1 respect among the peoples of the North

  The next quest in the series

  Message:

  Reward for beating the entire quest series:

  5000 experience

  3000 gold

  +30 respect among the peoples of the North

  Two random items from the König of the North’s personal armory matching your class

  Title: Friend of the König

  “So did you learn anything useful, guest of the North? Can you do anything? Maybe you need to talk to someone else.” The könig swallowed yet more ale.

  You have a new quest offer: Eyewitnesses

  This is the second in the Missing Daughter series of quests.

  Task: Interrogate everyone living in the könig’s palace and try to figure out who kidnapped Ulfrida, how, and why.

  Reward:

  700 experience

  +1 respect among the peoples of the North

  A random item from the könig’s armory

  The next quest in the series

  Warning: if you fail this quest, you will fail the entire quest series, and your reputation among the peoples of the North will suffer.

  Accept?

  “Of course I do, könig,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I need to talk with everyone who was in the palace that evening and night. You don’t have too many people living here, do you?”

  “It all depends,” he answered carelessly. “It’s always different. Sometimes it’s just us, other times we have visitors.”

  “And relatives? Do you have many of those?” I asked.

  You never know what to expect from family, especially when they’re royalty.

  “No. We rarely see them here, and there aren’t many of them in the first place. Barely any are left—just Federic the Seventh, my mother’s brother.”

  “Really?” exclaimed von Richter. “I didn’t know your father married the King of the West’s sister.”

  “That he did. Sure, he didn’t really care that much about getting her permission,” Snorrison said as he scratched his chest beneath his beard. “When Federic’s father, Rugo the Fourth, married for the second time, he invited my father. To be fair, I guess they didn’t have much of a choice—he would have come regardless, only angry and with a hird if they hadn’t invited him. He was a sensitive old man, and passionate. Anyway, everything was fine, they invited him and all, and there wasn’t any reason for anyone to kill anyone else. Federic’s sister—old Rugo’s daughter—was there, and he took a liking to her. That mother of mine was a beauty.”

  “What happened then?” asked the ever-sentimental Gunther.

  “What happened then? He asked for her hand. I say ‘asked’…”

  “Got it,” I replied. “And?”

  “Rugo wasn’t against the marriage, and he knew very well that refusing my father would turn the West red with blood.” The könig smiled, proud of his father. “The Crisna’s a wide river, and our drakkars would have had an easy time sailing up it. But my mom dug in her heels and said she wouldn’t go off with a wild man. So, my father thought for a few minutes, rolled her up in a carpet, promised he’d send a drakkar for her dowry, and left for Holmstag.”

  “He sure knew how to treat a woman,” I said, shaking my head in awe.

  “Who knows?” Harald scratched his protruding girth. “But they lived happily for twenty years and had me and my three brothers. So there’s that.”

  “Where are your brothers now?” I asked.

  “All up there in the heavenly palace.” The könig’s finger jabbed skyward. “Long since.”

  “I’m sorry,” I replied sincerely. The story with his relatives looked promising, though it wasn’t meant to be.

  “Not really.” Snorrison’s shaggy head shook. “On the one hand, sure, brothers are your blood. On the other, there wasn’t a fight for the throne. A lot of blood is spilled up here in the North when power is shared.”

  “So Federic the West is a relative, even if he’s a distant one?” The knight said, slowly processing the whole thing.

  “He is indeed,” the könig said with a nod. “He’s my uncle, one of my last few kinsmen. I just have him, his children, and Ulfrida—that’s it. My brothers died childless; old Hugo—as Gunther, I’m sure, remembers—didn’t have children with his second wife and died of the plague five years back; and my father killed all his relatives.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I told you: a lot of blood is spilled when power is divided,” explained the könig. “He was the only one left from his father, too. Some they poisoned, some had their throats slit, and they even slipped snakes into my father’s bed twice. One was a real viper, and the other was a naked one with a poisoned dagger under her pillow. In the end, there was only one left: my father, Snorry Gustafson, the one they called Big-Bellied. And I inherited the throne from him.”

  I was too polite to ask how his esteemed father had departed this world, although, to be fair, that may have been more from a sense of self-preservation rather than politeness…

  “And Federic doesn’t have any family? What about his mother’s side?” I asked.

  “Sure, he has two sons and a daughter, like I already mentioned. The rest are enemies, not family.”

  “What do you mean?” I was a bit surprised.

  “In the West, everyone who isn’t too lazy tries to get their hands on the crown—they all claim it’s theirs by birthright,” Gunther explained reluctantly. “Your nearest relative is always your most dangerous enemy.”

  “Quite,” agreed Harald. “I think that’s true everywhere except in the Eastern sultanate. Over there, they’re smart about it: the oldest kills all their brothers and sisters before they’re out of diapers. The East…it’s a special place.”

  “It’s not bad in the South either,” replied Gunther. “They don’t have an ultimate authority at all; whoever’s strongest just goes ahead and seizes power.”

  “Unbelievable.” I was flabbergasted by the whole mess. What a sweet, humane little game this Fayroll is…

  “It’s tough without family though,” said Harald, again slipping into depression.
“You don’t have anyone to really talk to.”

  “That’s true,” Gunther agreed, joining his depression. “As far as I know, I have a father, brothers, and sisters, but it’s the same thing. I was raised by the order, and I’ve never even lived in our family’s castle.”

  The two unfortunates looked at each other with sympathy and understanding. This has to stop. I slapped the table. “Well then, that’s a dead end. So, I should talk to everyone who was in the palace that night.”

  “Hey, Magny, you clumsy seal, where are you?” bellowed Snorrison.

  “Here, könig, what’s the noise about?”

  The man who’d brought us ale ambled over to the table.

  “Call everyone who’s in the palace now except the new guards—they couldn’t know anything. And don’t go find everyone yourself or we’ll be here until morning; send the girls. I want everyone here in ten minutes, and I’ll straighten the ribs of anyone who isn’t!”

  He obviously wasn’t joking about the ribs, as ten minutes later about thirty people—what looked like everyone who lived in the palace—were standing in front of us. The remainder of the guard had also been dragged in—I recognized them by the bedraggled appearance that spoke to days of confinement.

  “My dear witnesses,” I started off, “I’m going to have each of you come to me one by one and tell me exactly how you spent the evening and night three days ago. Just so you know, I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.”

  “And if the laird has reason to doubt a single word you say, you’re in for a world of hurt. Okay, start with the executioner. I trust him completely, and he might have a little extra work here in just a bit.” The könig settled onto the bench and watched with interest to see what would happen.

  I followed his lead and began with the executioner. Once I was done with him, I thoroughly questioned everyone else in the group, including cooks, cleaners, and a few women I wasn’t sure about. They may have been maids or concubines, and one of them had an alibi the könig confirmed. I guess he wasn’t just drinking ale all night.

  Nothing came of the exercise. None of them were lying, that much was clear. But none of them knew anything either. I was thrown for a loop: the person who could throw light on the affair had to be in the palace. It was a quest, not real life after all.

  “König, is this definitely everyone who was here then?” I asked.

  “It should be.” Harald stroked his beard. “Truvorsson isn’t here, but you won’t be questioning him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’d have to visit the heavenly palace for that,” he responded, arms spread wide. “I carved him a blood eagle. He was a tough nut, took him a while to die.”

  “And the guards are all here?”

  “The ones I left alive, yes. They’re over there batting their eyelashes,” he replied.

  “Worker Flosy isn’t here,” squeaked one of the girls.

  “Right,” confirmed a chubby cook. “Ingvar is missing, too.”

  “Of course!” The könig started. “Ingvar isn’t here. But he couldn’t know anything since I sent him to one of the burgs that morning on business.”

  “Who is Ingvar?” I asked.

  “Ingvar? He’s my advisor and trusted representative,” the könig explained. “He writes decrees, runs negotiations, is in charge of the treasury. A good man, and proven; we grew up together. We didn’t cut our hands under earth, but I’m as confident in him as I am in myself.”

  I’ll have to chat with him. He sounds like the kind of person who could know quite a bit.

  “When will he be back, könig?” Gunther appeared to share my thoughts.

  “Tomorrow or the day after, I think,” Harald answered.

  “And who is Flosy? Is ‘worker’ a nickname?” I asked about the second person who was missing.

  “No,” the girl who noticed his absence replied. “His nickname is ‘stinker.’ He’s a seasonal worker who comes in to clean the latrines, though I didn’t see him around yesterday, either.”

  “That’s true,” confirmed a big stableman. “He’s supposed to carry manure out of the stables, but there’s already a huge pile waiting for him. I was just about to go look for him.”

  “He’s probably off drunk somewhere.” A housekeeper, who was unusually tall for a Northerner, joined the conversation. “What else is new?”

  “Silence!” barked the könig. “That’s enough. Hagen, do you still need all these good-for-nothings?”

  “No,” I replied with a shrug.” You can let them go. I just need someone to tell me where I can find Flosy. He lives here, right?”

  “Yes, but not in the palace itself. He’s off in the back courtyard where the garden is. There’s a shack he lives in there,” rattled off the same girl.

  “So, take the laird there,” ordered Harald before turning to Gunther. “While you’re doing that, von Richter and I will drink to everyone near and dear to our hearts.”

  “I think I should probably go with Hagen,” von Richter said, throwing up a feeble defense before he saw the ferocious look on the könig’s face.

  “Do you respect me?” Harald asked threateningly.

  “König, what are you talking about? Of course, I respect you!” Gunther sighed.

  “Then drink!”

  Their mugs clinked together as I walked out of the room.

  The girl, whose name turned out to be Agnes, chattered away the whole time we walked to the back courtyard where the garden, shack, and Flosy where. I found out that she’d had a suitor named Sigurd and they’d even been about to get married, but her parents were against it because of how poor he was. Sigurd gave up on the whole thing in disgust, told her materialistic parents off using some choice words, and apparently went off to join the Sea Kings—Nidhogg damn him for that. In short, the girl’s heart and bed happened to be very available.

  Happily, we reached the shack we were looking for before anything could happen. I had the mark of Mesmerta on me, not to mention the oath I took, and any untoward behavior on my part would have meant a world of problems.

  “Laird Hagen, I’d rather not go with you,” Agnes said, her face reddening. “He smells so bad…”

  “Then don’t go.” I shrugged. I didn’t care what she did so long as I found the toilet cleaner in his right mind.

  The door eased gently open, and the entire force of the stink cooped up on the other side smacked me in the face. So I guess he’s not overly fond of aromatic soap and fluffy towels.

  The bearded and tubby Flosy lay snoring on a cot, legs and arms splayed wide. He took up more than half of the tiny shack. Mom and dad’s shed is bigger than this.

  I poked him with my scabbard, afraid to actually touch anything. He mumbled something but didn’t wake up. I poked him again. The result was the same, and I realized I’d need to take radical steps to get him up.

  Leaving the shed, I saw Agnes a little way off. “I saw a bucket by the stables. Can you bring it here?”

  She was off like a flash and came back with a heavy wooden tub she’d even filled with water. Some girls they have here in the North!

  “Don’t close the door, okay?” she said. “He hates water, so this is going to be funny.”

  “He hates water? That seems odd, given his job,” I replied in surprise.

  I walked back in and heaved the water onto Flosy. There was an earth-shattering bellow, the toilet master jumped up off the cot, and I found a pair of blood-streaked eyes staring at me.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I said immediately. “I’m a guest of the könig and an authorized representative of the Tearful Goddess Order, so you’ll get one of those—what are they called?—blood eagles if you try anything.”

  “What do you want?” Flosy mumbled almost inarticulately.

  “The truth,” I replied. “What did you see during the evening and night three days ago when the könig’s daughter went missing?”

  “The inside of my eyelids,” Flosy said, his eyes shif
ting away from mine. “I was sleeping.”

  Ah-ha, this one knows something. And I’m sorry, but you’re going to tell me even if I have to drag you over to the executioner myself.

  “You’re lying.” I stamped my foot. “You’re definitely lying.”

  I heard a sniff behind me as Agnes appeared to be all ears. “Sweetie, come over here,” I said, turning to her.

  When she stepped toward me, I looked deeply into her eyes and whispered intimately to her. “Run away nice and fast, or you’re going to die nice and long. And pray you don’t hear a word I’m about to say to this guy here since these aren’t my secrets. They’re the könig’s, and if you hear them, your little girlie instincts are going to have you spouting them off to everyone who will listen to you. What will Harald do to you then? Maybe he’ll bury you alive, or maybe he’ll feed you to the bears—that guy has quite the imagination.”

  She turned white, and I watched her fear quickly overcome her feminine sense of curiosity. The only sound I heard was the one her boot heels made as she tap-tap-tapped away across the stones.

  I walked back into the shack and closed the door most of the way. Flosy was sitting on the cot, which was just as wet and stinking as he was.

  “Who was it, Flosy? Just tell me now, because I’m going to get it out of you sooner or later. You can tell me, or you can tell the executioner. He loves putting on a good show, you know that.”

  “Yes, Svald is definitely good at his job,” agreed Flosy. “But maybe what I saw is scarier than he is. How do you know?”

  “I don’t,” I answered, shrugging. “But I definitely know that old Svald is here, while whatever you saw is not.”

  “I don’t know about that…” said Flosy tentatively.

  “Would you like me to get him so we can see which is closer?”

  “No, that’s fine. I’ll tell you what I saw.” Flosy’s eyes dropped, his head followed suit, as he obviously worked up the nerve to talk.

  “Oh, come on, this isn’t the theater, so you can forget the dramatic pause.”

  Flosy clearly didn’t understand what pause I was talking about, but he finally opened his mouth to talk.