One Story After Another

Vines tightly grasped the garden rails. Every time I came out here, I saw the remains of a never ending war raging between the maids and plants, and it seemed as if recently the flowers had the upper hand.

I glanced through a nearby bush, vibrant, with sunlight touching every one of its leaves. Just beyond that was Father's precious family fountain, which sprayed out water five meters high. He couldn’t help but rave about everything the first Galinding did to obtain such a stupid looking, sorry, wonderful fountain.

Granted, said treasure was apparently built just after Edmund was born. A sad day for the world indeed.

But no way Father would lie about such a thing. If he said it was thousands of years old, then it must be so. His exorbitant humbleness he loved to brag about wouldn't allow him.

My blonde hair fluttered about, a chill accompanying the sudden gust of wind. The maids had, for some godforsaken reason, insisted that today was a good yellow day. Who knew what that meant.

What they hadn’t thought about was that every yellow suit I’d been handed from Edmund’s old stock was the thinnest thing on the planet.

At the bare minimum, it was at least still in one piece, with black sewn through the seams. That didn’t prevent the wind from moving straight through the fabric like it might as well not exist. Edmund may have been a prick, but at least he did a good job keeping his old clothes in good shape.

But damn was it ever cold out!

To my left, a vine wrapped around a nearby bush, slithering up the thin branches and stems, before blooming just beyond the end of the shadows. Yet just before it could fully reach the sun, another vine quickly snatched it away.

“Clair?”

“Emma!” My mouth burst into a smile as my sister called out from just behind a row of lilies.

“What are you doing out here dressed like that?” She hurried over, wrapping her pale lavender jacket around my shoulders like a warm hug. “Is freezing to death on the itinerary today?”

“As tempting as that sounds, blame Father for not getting me a jacket worth anything. I’ve not seen proof that thick jackets exist on this continent.”

Not that Father had ever actually bought me a single thing before. He always blamed money whenever the topic came up, but considering Edmund debuted a new suit weekly, twice the cost of anything I’d want, his words rang a bit hollow.

“Because I’m sure the servants really care about how prim and proper you look.”

I snickered. “You know, if they can handle Edmund’s horrid fashion sense, they must have nerves of steel.”

“Now you get it!” She said, copying my laugh. Her now bare arms gleamed in the morning sunlight against her familiar crimson gown. A ponytail of golden brown hair gently swung back and forth, not a strand out of place. Not to mention her shining green eyes. I was reminded day after day why every prince I’d sadly had the displeasure of meeting called her the most beautiful woman they had ever seen.

Though seeing those so-called regal dukes and princes with wide mouthed and drooling was a sight to see.

“You know,” My attention snapped back to Emma as she went on, “Isn’t it always nice around here. All the hustle and bustle of the manor is gone; the maids trim the herbs and rake a little at most. It's such a nice place to relax, especially without Sir. Charles.”

“Any place without Father is a good one,” I muttered.

“I can’t disagree.” She leaned against a nearby pillar, releasing every bit of tension from her body. “Speaking of places without him, have you had a chance to go down to Levinet recently? Sir. Charles’s comments have me a bit worried about them.”

A frown crossed my lips. It had been a good minute since I made my way down to the village. “I can probably go sometime later today, well, if Alfie’s available to take me.”

“It never hurts to get out of the stuffy manor, but we can save such talk for later. It’s been a while since we’ve both had time to talk! Come, let’s sit near the tea table.”

Before I could speak a word, she grasped my arm and gleefully dragged me along through the maze of thorns and roses. Maids ducked left and right as Emma spouted apologies their way. Ever since I was a kid, she delighted in dragging me or Edmund along to who knows where, most of the time without much resistance.

Well, it was more just me these days.

At the opposite end of the gardens, a clearing emerged amidst the thick greenery. Flowers bloomed amidst the even lawn. In the middle of the tranquil space, a simple brown wooden table overlooked the clearing with the watchful eye of a guard. It had been our meeting spot ever since Father had reluctantly agreed to commission a space for Emma to take her court-mandated… gatherings.

She promptly sat down, dragging me to the other side. “Miss. Dalinor, would it be possible for you to grab us a tea set?”

“Yes, my lady.” One of the nearby maids quickly dashed off towards the kitchen.

“It feels like it's been forever since we’ve had a chance to talk,” Emma said, slouching down on the table. “Sir. Charles is always making me prepare for whatever thug decides that week is their destined chance to meet the love of their life. You wouldn’t believe how many of those regal princes think flexing their muscles a bit will make me swoon.”

“Let’s hope I never do.” I rolled my eyes. Whenever a painfully interesting noble decided to stumble in, I couldn't help but spy on them through some crevice in the manor. Better comedy than any jester across the country could provide. “Do you think you’ll ever find one?”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t know; the future's so far away. Better to not think of such scary things,” She finished her statement off with a long glance towards the horizon.

“Well, the longer away such a horrid day is, the more I can put it off.”

“Better prepare. The second Sir. Charles finds a suitable partner to drag me off you’re next. Even the Ringers know Edmund is a lost cause.” Emma chucked, a frown slightly visible between her smile

“Can I just, like, kill Edmund and get locked in the dungeons instead?” Honestly, that sounded much more enjoyable. Anyone whom Father picked as a suitable partner would undeniably be a walking red flag.

“We can just pretend I heard nothing if such an incident occurs.”

We both burst into laughter. Sure, the maids probably thought we were insane, but what was life without a few murder plots anyway?

“If only I could stand up to Father, then I wouldn’t have to deal with this mess.” I felt my chest slowly decompress. Sure, we could blabber about this and that out here with just us two and a handful of maids, but the way my breath froze in my throat whenever Father entered the room was a pain unto itself.

“Hey,” she grasped her soft hands against mine. “I can help you, but you’re more than able to stand up for yourself! I know it's hard, trust me, I’m shaking in my boots just thinking of that man.”

“Really?”

“If you can learn to fight back against his fits, you’ll have a better chance than I ever did. Maybe one day he will get so tired of you that he'll ship you off to the nearest magic school.”

“Wouldn’t that be a dream…” Sounded exponentially better than rotting away in these halls until some generic spoiled princess tried to make me fall for her.

“Now, I know you're happily swaddled up in my coat, but personally, I happen to be freezing.” She sat up, gathering her frilly dress. “So if you’ll excuse me, it's time to make myself scarce.”

And sure enough, she proceeded to dash off, shivering the entire time.

                                                                                  * * *

The morning after, the cold grip from yesterday had lost its grasp, replaced with a nice warm breeze.

Alfie walked beside me on the winding trail to Levinet—a light brown path well-worn with age. Stone ruins of what were at one time old walls and stuff popped up through the clearing here and there, not a single one lacking a thick coat of moss.

Something poked its head through the row of trees to my left. A doe, light brown with a noticeable white spot across its left eye. We made eye contact before it scampered off, unlike me, free to go wherever its heart desired.

Minutes later, Levinet appeared just over the horizon.

Levinet wasn’t exactly the type of town a guy dreamed of. Houses made with a scattered mix of wood and brick made up the dilapidated town, with scattered dirt slowly moving through the day’s air. Once striking wooden roofs now sat faded.

But despite the town's appearance, if I just looked at the people, any thoughts of a downtrodden street quickly disappeared.

Their smiles alone were infectious. Farmers gently walked around the streets, chatting up whoever happened to be in a five-foot radius and shouting greetings of joy toward every person across the valley.

“My lord, let me take a few precautions before we enter,” Alfie said.

“Very well.” Because surely some maniac was going to attack me in broad daylight.

With a snap of his fingers, the ground just beneath my feet glowed a brilliant green. A wave of calm washed over the surrounding crowd. Magic, just the simplest of spells could silence a room of people in this part of the world. “That should be sufficient. Thank you for waiting, my lord.”

“I’ll now feel safe and secure when the entire country of Pantor comes charging for my head,” I muttered, just quietly enough to avoid Alfie’s attention. “And thank you for always protecting me.”

Amidst the city streets, vibrant tents sprang up like flowers as salesmen marketed their wares. I could hear the merchants, each shouting more outrageous marketing slogans than the last, whatever words would convince the onlookers to buy.

The rich scent of fresh fruits added to the town’s feel—a sweet and tangy mix of apples and potatoes ripe and ready to swallow.

From the looks of things, Father hadn’t yet succeeded in driving the town to run just yet. People, young and old, carried on with their day while wearing smiles that brightened the air around them. Coming here always made the manor feel grim and depressing. A stark reminder of how cold home could feel.

I looked behind as my family’s regal tower shot up past the horizon. Galinding Manor cast a deep shadow upon the day, darker than any natural shade could create.

A random fruit stand caught my eye. Red flags gently flew in the summer air, flying above a cover of a similar shade. “Apples, Apples, get your Apples here. Just ripened, can't find them fresher anywhere else!”

There wasn’t anything special about the stand, yet the atmosphere of it caught my eye.

His deep red apples shone against the sun’s rays. Each one was a deeper red than the last, not a single mark against the skin, with a smell that made me almost jump in excitement. And he didn’t just have a few. Rows upon rows of those apples were packed together, with what looked to be even more just behind the stand.

“Alfie, you see that stand over there?”

“Clear as day,” He mused. “Feels a bit early for apples.”

“Still, it has been eons since we had any apples in stock. You know how Emma loves them.”

He gently smiled. “How many do you want?”

“Great question.” I trotted over to the salesmen.

He turned towards me while wearing a massive grin. For a merchant, he was rather muscular, with biceps that stretched his tan shirt. A forest green vest was wrapped over his chest—easily bigger than even the biggest of my suits. A bandana adorned his otherwise bald head. “May I help you, my lord?”

“Around how many apples do you have with you?”

“If I had to put a number to it, around fifteen crates.” He shrugged. “Hard to tell how much of that will be undamaged.”

“And how much of that do you expect to sell?”

“Maybe ten? For whatever reason, demand feels a bit more shallow than in years past.”

Thanks, Father. “Alfie?”

“The kitchens have more than enough room for two or so crates.”

“Perfect! I’ll take two of those off your hands then.”

“Seriously?” His eyes grew wide. “That’ll be a pretty penny, my lord.”

“Don’t worry about it. But in exchange, can you go into detail about that demand comment?”

“I can only speak for myself here.” His face shifted into a frown, forehead creased in thought. “You may see nothing but happy smiles, but there's not been nearly as much activity as I’d expect this time of year. Even pushed the crop hard last season, it's a shame. Normally, I’d expect to part ways with around twenty or so crates this round, twenty-five if the season's hot.”

“But you only brought fifteen?”

“Got a tip from a friend that things were getting difficult round these parts. Either everyone’s developed a sudden acute distaste for apples, or he hit the nail on the head.”

It looked like Father’s party obsession had some effects after all.

“Thank you.” I bowed, letting Alfie sort out the money stuff. “I hope that next season we can provide you with better pickings.”

Soon after, we walked across a stone bridge well worn with age. My feet slid across the ice-like stones without an ounce of resistance. It truly was the perfect day to explore.

As the market faded into the background, more permanent storefronts popped up to take their place.

To my left, the Galinding Domain’s bank’s doors shuffled about as customers passed through both ways. I never knew what expression they would wear; It was a bank after all.

Next to that happy place, the post office served as a revolving door. Yet, any signs of the grumpy men and women from next door were a foreign sight.

I sat down on a nearby bench. Compared to yesterday's chill, I could feel a drop of sweat racing down my back. Ew.

“Settle down, children.” To my right, an older woman spoke softly to a group of nearby kids. “I can’t tell my story if no one can hear.”

It had been a while since I had the luxury of listening to a storyteller. Father had banned them from the manor ages ago because, to him, fun was a horrid abomination.

“Now, who here has heard the tale of Laiselan’s Treasure?”

I perked up. As a kid, storyteller after storyteller would come to the manor and tell us kids their tales from faraway lands and whatnot. They proclaimed tales of dragons and summoned sorcerers more powerful than the greatest of beasts, but there were only so many stories in circulation. Eventually, I heard the common ones several times over.

But this Laiselan’s Treasure? That was new.

As the kids quieted down again, she pulled a lute from her satchel. “This is a tale from days long past, when the Ringers still roamed the land, and just before Galinding’s Domain existed.

Ringers? That wasn’t a word I’d expected to hear. To us, Ringers were near-mythical figures—heroes summoned to this world over a thousand years ago.

But they weren't just myths. Ringers were very real, and very dangerous.

I focused on her words, intent on absorbing every bit of information. And with a strum of her lute, she was off.

“We begin with a man more noble than most; a Ringer with a sense of bravery above all else.

A man named Laiselan.

Back in his day, war ravaged across the land, attacking every man who dared enter its terrain. And this never-ending war had crept up on his domain like a thief in the night.

Laiselan mobilized his troops for the invasion, but his opponent didn't command ordinary soldiers. They were beasts! Monsters with scales thicker than obsidian, fangs sharper than a mithril blade, bloodlust greater than the worst of killers, and they were coming right for him!”

“Ahh!” One of the girls shrieked, and a cacophony of laughter from the other kids followed soon after. Father is worse than this, maybe I’m just numb.

She continued on. “Laiselan knew the odds, but he was no fool. His troops were the mightiest in the country. If anyone would be prepared to give their lives to the people, they were shining examples.

And so as dawn rose, the armies clashed. The battle raged on for three days and three nights with neither side giving in. Yet, for every unholy creature slashed down, two more took its place. On the dawn of the fourth day, the unsteady balance finally shattered as Laiselan’s men numbered too few to protect the castle.

Laiselan locked all the civilians deep underground, but even he knew it was a matter of time. However, there was one thing he could not allow to grace the creature's grubby fists.

For Laiselan owned a treasure more valuable than the world itself.

So, with the monsters beating down one stone wall after another, he called out to anyone, anything that was listening. ‘Please, if you are out there, somebody, anybody, please protect my treasure!’ And sure enough, one of the gods of old answered his request.

But gods don’t do things for free. As the castle shook and shuddered, Laiselan fiercely bartered with the god, as if any potential danger were a hundred years away. It's said their debate rocked the foundations of reality itself, but eventually, the two came to a deal.”

“What did they agree on?” Another kid asked, a boy this time with shaggy black hair.

“Who knows. Such a thing has been lost to the sands of time. But whatever it was, their deal set forth a wave of power so great that all traces of war’s ravenous hand ceased, if even just for a moment.

When the monsters finally breached the innermost room, Laiselan fought valiantly, giving time for his people to escape while the beasts were fully focused on him. As the sun set on the fourth day, Laiselan cried out! The once-shining castle shuddered, collapsing on the intruders as Laiselan breathed his last.

It is said that the treasure Laiselan so fervently protected is still guarded to this day by Laiselan’s lingering love for it, somewhere deep within the long-forgotten ruins of Laiselan Castle.

And that is the tale of Laiselan’s Treasure.”

The kids burst into cheers as I quietly clapped from the sidelines. “Alfie, do you happen to have any spare change on you?”

“Yes, my lord, a few copper shillings.”

“Good enough,” I said, grabbing the cool coins. It had taken mere seconds for the storyteller to pull out a basket now sparingly decorated with donations.

I poured the change with a clatter. “I do have a quick question if you don’t mind.”

“Anything you desire, my lord.”
“Where exactly did you hear this story? I can’t say it happens to be one I've heard before.”

“Oh, it’s an ancient tale from around these parts. My mother heard it from her mother and so on, until the tale passed to me. In exchange, may I ask a question of you, my lord?”

“Go on.”

“To which of the noble houses do you belong?”

“The House of Galinding.” Where Father incinerated any trace of fun that had the misfortune to enter its premises.

“Very interesting. I wish you well with what's to come young lord.” She bowed, before slowly making her way toward the market.

“That was weird,” I muttered. Well, storytellers were always the more eccentric type. That was what made them so fun. “Alfie, is there much else that you want to do while we are here in Levinet?

“Sadly, nothing comes to mind. The apples from earlier have already been transported back to the manor, so there's nothing of note keeping us here”

“Very well, let's make our way back to the manor. Emma’s party is tomorrow, I need to get ready.”