Aldevire - Working Title - Chapter 1

The old man carefully picked his way along the dreary passageway, taking great care to avoid the puddles of sludge that had accumulated in numerous places on the floor. Despite his attempts, the hem of his once-white robe had attracted wet, dirty marks along the hem. A small glowing ball hovered over his shoulder, lighting his way and revealing the longish grey hair that framed the sharp features of his face.

Coming to a T intersection he turned to the right and continued along, accidentally catching the sleeve of his robe on the filthy green moss that covered parts of the walls. He cursed under his breath as he quickly examined the stain, then picked up his pace as he strove to lessen the time that it took to traverse this cesspit of a corridor.

He came in time to the end of the corridor, which was screened by planks of wood. Midnight had come and gone an hour ago, and the old man was confident that the king would now be alone in his chambers, so he tapped one of the wooden planks twice, then once again after a small pause.

After a short wait, the planks slid off on runners to the side revealing a man in his bed robe. The old man bowed deeply. “My king.”

“Methista. Come on it out of that awful place.” The king whispered before he moved back out of the way and the old man stepped into the king’s wardrobe, taking care not to foul the hanging clothes with his robe. The king went over to one of the chairs that were near the fireplace while Methista closed the wardrobe door behind him. Extinguishing the glowball with a glance, he went and joined his king but remained standing so as not to drag his filthy clothing over the furniture. No-one must know that he was here, and a dirty chair would raise questions.

As the fire threw its delightful heat over the pair, the old man enjoyed the sensation for a moment before turning to the king. Raising his hand, Methista muttered one word and a shimmer sprang up around the two men. “Your Majesty, it is now safe to talk. I have shielded us against prying ears.”

“Excellent,” replied King Loresth as he smiled at the old man. “How are you progressing?”

“I have studied the candidate that you suggested, and I find him to be... lacking. His mental faculties are disturbed and I fear that if I visit him he would become extremely agitated. He was once a man of violence, and his condition leaves him open to bursts of rage.”

“Nevertheless wizard, he is the man that we need. My ability in divination may be small, but I am certain of it. It must be him.” stated the king. “Every year the damned Issuldians turn the screws that bit tighter. The serfs starve in their hovels, their daughters are taken and used, and their sons too! That the people of this land are forced to feed our oppressor’s perversions while they continue to drain what little wealth is left...” Loresth was growing visibly angry, and he paused for a moment to try to reign in his temper. “This cannot continue. What do we have? Nothing Methista, we have nothing. This has to end. Their theft and depravities must be stopped! This is our chance to do it!

“I dream about sticking a dagger in that pig Rungstlow’s belly. I want my ‘advisor’ bleeding out on the ground in front of me, and I’m going to stand, watch, and enjoy every second of it! But we need the stranger, and what he can bring with him, before anything can be done.”
“As you say your majesty. Let me think on the problem momentarily.”

Loresth went over to a small corner table and poured himself a cup of water, leaving the wizard to his thoughts. Returning to the chair he sat in silence, taking sips from his cup. He could think of no other course of action. A king, hah! He sat here powerless, a performing dog for the Issuldians while they continued to rape the once-proud nation of Aldevire.

Methista nodded to himself, and then looked at his king. “Our prospect has a friend that has great influence with him. It may be that I could approach him first and ask him to forewarn his friend of my coming.”

“I hope that you manage that wizard, otherwise a direct approach will be needed instead. I am confident that you will achieve what we need, one way or the other.”

“I shall undertake the errand tomorrow evening your majesty. I shall do what I can.”

“Your will succeed Methista, you must succeed!”

Taking his leave, the wizard re-entered the wardrobe and was gone, travelling back through the secret passageway to his room. Loresth closed up properly behind him, rearranging his clothes again to cover the small hidden latch that opened the back of the wardrobe.

Slipping back into bed, the king fretted. He felt helpless now, unable to affect the outcome, and it grated upon him.

It took him a long time to get to sleep.