(Tredor)
The conversation between Uther and myself had shifted, moving from the personal struggles within the royal family to the broader political landscape of Camelot. I brought up a point that had been gnawing at my thoughts, a concern sparked by Aynar's final words. "Your Majesty," I began cautiously, "we should consider Aynar's warning more closely. We must keep a vigilant eye on the rising noble houses, particularly House Arras and House Hydra. And perhaps, it's time to approach House Phoenix for support. They've remained silent and neutral for too long."
Uther's reaction was a laugh, though it carried little humor. "House Phoenix as an ally is an ideal thought, Tredor, but a far-fetched dream. The head of the house, the young duke, Lucas, has always steered clear of political entanglements. In many ways, he's done well to keep his house at a distance from the rest of us."
I persisted, knowing the gravity of our situation. "Lucas is still a subject of Camelot, and if the empire falls, House Phoenix will not remain untouched. We cannot afford to leave any stone unturned in our search for allies."
Uther looked at me, a hint of skepticism in his eyes. "Tredor, do you truly believe that the fall of Camelot would significantly impact Phoenix? To be honest, I'm more surprised that they haven't declared independence yet. If Lucas wished it, who in Camelot could possibly stop him?"
His words hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the power and autonomy of House Phoenix. The truth was undeniable – Lucas, the Phoenix, was renowned as the most powerful human mage in the universe and the strongest archmage in Camelot. His abilities and the influence of his house were such that if he chose to act against the empire, or even simply declare independence, there would be little anyone could do to stop him.
I remained silent, contemplating this reality. Indeed, Lucas's detachment from the political affairs of Camelot was a blessing in its own right. His focus on other pursuits, his absence from the planet, was perhaps a factor in the relative stability we still enjoyed. A man of his power and influence, if embroiled in the empire's politics, could shift the balance in unpredictable ways.
In the stillness that enveloped us, Uther contemplated the complexities of the situation before finally breaking the silence. "I am aware of the houses that are benefiting from Basilisk's downfall," he admitted with a measured tone. "I share your wariness towards them. But confronting them directly could spark a civil war, an outcome we must avoid at all costs. We need a solid reason, undeniable proof of their treachery, if we are to act against them."
I listened intently, understanding the delicate balance Uther was trying to maintain. "If you harbor doubts about these houses, I grant you permission to conduct your investigations. You will have my full support in this endeavor," he declared, offering me not just his approval but the resources of the empire to uncover the truth.
I felt a calm sense of resolve wash over me. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will proceed with the necessary discretion and diligence," I assured him, grateful for the trust he placed in me.
Uther then offered a faint smile, one that carried a mixture of determination and hope. "Despite my limitations, I intend to salvage what I can of my reign. I aim to make the latter part of it memorable and peaceful. I realize now more than ever that actions speak louder than words."
He then shared his decision, one that took me by slight surprise. "I have decided to appoint Lucius Harriborn as the new chancellor and elevate him to the status of a duke. I plan to grant him half of the Basilisk territories."
I nodded, acknowledging the wisdom in his choice. "That is a commendable decision, Your Majesty. Lucius Harriborn is undoubtedly the best man for the task. His intelligence and loyalty are beyond question." Yet, a concern lingered in my mind, which I voiced with caution. "However, this decision might draw early attention, given that Lucius is not of noble descent. It could place him in a precarious position."
Uther chuckled at my concern, a sound that echoed with confidence. "Let them try. Lucius is not a man to be easily targeted or intimidated. His capability is precisely why I chose him. He's more than capable of handling whatever comes his way."
As our conversation came to a close, and we approached the imperial palace, the weight of our discussions lingered in my mind. Uther's decisions, though fraught with potential risks, were steps towards stabilizing and strengthening the empire. The appointment of Lucius Harriborn as chancellor and his elevation to nobility was a bold move, one that could shift the dynamics of power within Camelot.
As I departed from Uther's company, leaving him at the entrance of the palace, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The tasks ahead were daunting, and the path fraught with uncertainty. Yet, there was a glimmer of hope, a chance to steer Camelot away from the brink of ruin and towards a future of stability and prosperity.
Walking through the moonlit streets of Avalon, I decided to take a detour, allowing the night air to clear my thoughts. As I strolled, the city's usual nocturnal calm was shattered by an unexpected commotion. Up ahead, an unusual spectacle unfolded, drawing my attention and curiosity.
In a dimly lit alley, a gargantuan white ogre towered menacingly over a diminutive gnome. The ogre's skin shimmered like polished ivory under the moonlight, muscles rippling with barely contained power. Each step he took caused the cobblestones to tremble, his massive fists clenched in fury.
The gnome, barely a quarter of the ogre's height, and seemingly young, darted around with surprising agility. His bright red beret and coat were a stark contrast to the ogre's imposing presence. He moved with the nimbleness of a street performer, evading the ogre's lumbering swipes with a mix of skill and sheer luck.
"Hey big guy, ever heard of a manicure? Those nails are a hazard!" the gnome quipped, his voice dripping with the kind of wit and sarcasm that could enrage even the most patient of creatures.
The ogre, infuriated by the comment, roared in response, a sound that echoed off the surrounding buildings. "Silence, little pest! You will pay for trying to tarnish my reputation! I'll make you feel my fist in your fucking guts, gnome!"
"Well damn, that sounds a bit dirty, Kroudov, I didn't know you were the naughty type, hehe!" said the gnome, oddly amused, still.
"Aaaaargh!", the Ogre, Kroudov, let out an enraged scream at the gnome, threatening to rip the little guy in half, his frustration grew bigger and bigger at the constant mocking laughs of the gnome.
The cause of their dispute was as bizarre as the fight itself. After asking to someone among the crowd, I learned that the gnome, apparently a journalist known for his investigative prowess, had unearthed compromising information about the ogre, who happened to be a figure of some repute in the ogre community.
"You know, for a big guy, you sure have a lot of skeletons in your closet. Or should I say, in your cave?" the gnome teased, ducking under a massive arm that swung with the force of a falling tree.
The ogre's face turned a shade redder, steam almost visible in the chilly night air. "Enough of your words! I'll crush you into silence!"
The gnome nimbly rolled away, narrowly avoiding a fist that shattered the cobblestones where he had just stood. "Whoa, that was close! You know, if you put this much effort into your personal affairs, maybe you wouldn't have so many secrets for me to find!"
In the midst of the frenzied chase, the gnome's eyes suddenly caught sight of a halfling woman standing beside a quaint flower cart. Even as the ground trembled with the ogre's thunderous pursuit, it seems he couldn't resist the opportunity.
He skidded to a stop, his breath quick but his grin undiminished. "Well, hello there, lovely—" he began with a roguish twinkle in his eye.
The halfling woman glanced at him with an unimpressed gaze. Cutting him off mid-sentence, she said flatly, "No."
The gnome blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Ah, okay," he responded swiftly, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in acknowledgment of the brisk rejection.
Without another word, he pivoted on his heel and sprinted off, the ogre's enraged roars echoing behind him. The scene seemed almost unreal and, oddly enough, it amused me.
Their banter continued, the gnome's relentless jibes only fueling the ogre's rage. The ogre's attempts to catch the gnome were like watching a boulder trying to squash a particularly elusive and cheeky beetle.
As the crowd around the scuffle grew tighter, the gnome's escape routes dwindled, trapping him in close quarters with the irate ogre. When the ogre managed to knock him down, he hovered above the gnome with a fist ready to strike. Remarkably, the gnome's wit didn't falter; even on the ground, he taunted the ogre with a devilish grin.
"You know, you really should consider a career in landscaping. You've got the whole 'uprooting trees' vibe down pat!" he quipped, narrowly dodging a fist that pounded the cobblestone where his head had been seconds before.
Stepping into this chaotic scene, I intervened just in time to catch the ogre's massive fist. The ogre, not recognizing me, bellowed in frustration. "Who are you to interrupt my business?"
The gnome, still lying on the ground, chimed in with unabashed cheekiness. "Oh, look! It's the cavalry! Or should I say, the one-man army! Watch out, big guy, you're not the only one who can shake the ground here!"
The ogre, now redirecting his anger towards me, swung a massive fist, which I easily sidestepped. The gnome, finding safety behind me, continued his barrage of jokes. "Hey, Mr. Ogre, remember the tale of the cheeky sprite and the grumpy giant? You're living it, and spoiler alert: it doesn't end well for the giant!"
It was clear the gnome was enjoying every moment of this perilous encounter. I warned him to tone it down. "Your humor might be writing checks your body can't cash," I cautioned, but he only grinned wider, clearly reveling in the situation.
The ogre, seizing an opportunity, aimed a powerful blow at my back, but with a flick of [Levitate], he was suspended in mid-air. The gnome's laughter rang out. "Up, up, and away! Who needs a flying carpet when you've got powerful magic?"
Upon being gently lowered to the ground, the ogre realized he had challenged mage and stammered out an apology. The gnome, seizing the moment, shouted to the gathering crowd, "Behold, Tredor Vanheim in action! Not just any mage, but the Emperor's Shield, a Quasar, and the head of House Vanheim! A legend in the flesh!"
Surprised by the gnome's announcement of my identity, I remarked, "You knew who I was all this time?"
With a sly smile, the gnome replied, "Of course! A good journalist always knows the players on the field. And you, my friend, are the star player!"
After managing to disperse the crowd who had become exited to the mention of my name , I turned to the gnome with a raised eyebrow. "It's not every day someone recognizes me, especially not with such... flair. How did you know who I am? My face isn't exactly plastered on the city walls."
The gnome struck a dramatic pose, puffing out his chest comically. "Ah, my noble lord, you underestimate the power of a top-notch journalist! I'm Arald Peytre, the new, young and handsome star reporter for 'The Fairy Tale' – the only newspaper in Avalon that's actually worth reading while riding a dragon upside down!"
He winked at me, his expression a blend of cheekiness and pride. "My job is to know the movers and shakers of Avalon, and you, lord Vanheim, are a mover and a shaker. Plus, you have a very distinct look – it's not every day you see someone who could double as a heroic statue in the town square!"
I couldn't help but offer a brief 'hmm' at his exaggerated manner. "Well, Mr. Peytre, I must say you have quite the knack for being at the center of action."
Arald leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Let's just say, I have an uncanny sense for when things are about to get interesting. Like a sixth sense, but for news. I once predicted an impromptu parade of enchanted toads – now that was a headline!"
He straightened up, his eyes glinting with amusement. "But enough about me and my reporter's superpowers. You, on the other hand, stopping an ogre mid-tantrum? That's the kind of story that gets a journalist's quill dancing!"
Kroudov was still there, calmer now, but grumpy and determined to take back whatever the young gnome had of him, sensing his frustration, "Mr. Peytre," I began, a hint of seriousness in my tone, "about the information you have on Mr. Kroudov. It might be best to hand it over. Keeping such material could lead to further trouble, for both you and him."
Arald, his eyes sparkling with mirth and feigning shock. "What? Hand over the scoop of the century? But Tredor, my man, you don't understand! That's like telling a succubus to stop shagging at the Summer Solstice celebration! It's ridiculous!"
I could feel the ogre's fury from the back. I raised an eyebrow, unamused by his theatrics. "It's a matter of safety – yours and his. Blackmail or scandal isn't a game, especially in Avalon."
Arald leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "But picture this: an ogre of Kroudov's stature, entangled in a love affair so scandalous, so... unconventional. It's the stuff of legends, Tredor! The public needs to know!"
I remained silent, giving him a look that clearly conveyed my disapproval.
He sighed dramatically, feigning resignation. "Fine, fine, lord Furrowbrow, I see your point. But you must admit, it's not every day you catch an ogre in a... compromising position with a goblin. How did you even get it in, big guy? I don't think I ever expected seeing that, I think I'm kind of into it, hehehe." I could feel Kroudos clenching his fist in anger.
Despite the gravity of the situation, I couldn't help but chuckle at Arald's flair for the dramatic. "Just the photos, Mr. Peytre."
Rolling his eyes, Arald reached into his coat and pulled out a small envelope. "Here you go, the forbidden romance of Kroudov and his goblin sweetheart. I hope their love can weather this storm," he said, handing the envelope over with a theatrical sigh.
I took the envelope, "Thank you for being sensible about this."
Arald leaned back, a sly grin returning to his face. "Oh, don't thank me yet. I've got enough material up my sleeve for a dozen more tales."
Upon receiving the envelope with the compromising information from Arald, I turned to Kroudov, the ogre, extending the envelope towards him. His reaction upon receiving it was a mix of frantic relief and gratitude.
"Lord Vanheim, I can't thank you enough!" Kroudov exclaimed, his deep voice booming with sincerity. His enormous hand gingerly took the envelope, handling it with surprising care given his immense size and strength.
He looked down at the envelope, a heavy sigh escaping him, one that seemed to carry the weight of the world. "You have no idea how much trouble this could have caused. I'm in your debt."
His eyes then shifted to Arald, who was watching the exchange with an impish grin. Kroudov's gaze hardened, a clear message of warning in his stare. But the young gnome, undeterred, simply winked back at him, his demeanor as cheeky as ever.
Kroudov grumbled something under his breath, a mix of annoyance and resignation, before turning his attention back to me. "Lord Vanheim, you've shown great honor in this. If there's ever anything I can do to repay your kindness, you need only ask."
With a final nod of respect, the ogre turned to leave. His departure was swift, yet there was a noticeable lightness in his steps, the burden of potential scandal lifted from his shoulders.
As I turned to leave, Arald Peytre, with his characteristic flamboyance, extended an unexpected invitation. "Hey, Tredor! How about a drink to thank you for saving my hide? It's not every day I get rescued by the Emperor's Shield himself!"
His offer caught me off guard, but the amusement of the night's events had put me in a good mood. "Well, Mr. Peytre, that's an offer I find hard to refuse," I replied with a smile.
Arald beamed, leading the way to a nearby tavern known for its eclectic clientele and lively atmosphere. "The Enchanted Chalice, just around the corner. They serve a mean sparkling nectar that's rumored to be blessed by a fairy. Or so they claim!"
As we settled into the dimly lit, cozy tavern, the sounds of lively conversation and the strumming of a lute filled the air. Arald, still brimming with energy, waved over the tavern keeper and ordered two of their specialty drinks.
"To new friends and unexpected adventures!" Arald toasted, raising his glass with a wink.
I clinked my glass against his. "To unexpected adventures indeed," I echoed, finding myself enjoying the gnome's company more than I had anticipated.
The evening unfolded with Arald regaling me with tales of his journalistic exploits, each story more outlandish and entertaining than the last. His wit and charm were infectious, and for a brief moment, I could forget the weight of my duties and the complexities of court life.