The Connifell

[Dragon314 he/him]

Below is the chapters that I have written for a novel that is not yet entitled.

Spoilered for size 

Chapter One

Spoiler

 

“It's time for the connefell.”  Conroy said quietly.

“Alright.” Essrod said the word as forlornly as he could manage. Just a few more minutes.

The facade was ending. Soon he would be in a position of power like no other Osturlor had ever possessed. The family name would have honor.  

The flame lit walls towered above every living thing. Essrod strode through, barely containing his confident walk. Red banners, some aged by millennia, hung from the ceiling, proclaiming the longevity of every stone in Luix castle. Essrod crossed the hall and ducked into the small inlet, the cabinet.

There, the strongest and most influential lords met. It had taken Essrod years just to get here. The noise of bickering filled the smaller but still grandiose room, a large square table, surrounded by chairs sat, the twenty seven seats made for an unequal number. The wood of the table was worn from many a knife thrown in to make a point. Essrod was particularly proud of the one in the bottom left corner. That had won him seventy farms.

The arguing abruptly was cut off as a man in red walked in flanked by four men in differing colors, yellow, green, blue, and white. “This is the Connifell.” They announced in unison, a rather unneeded comment in Essrod’s most unhumble opinion.

This was common knowledge. Indeed, all but two of them would be running their own lands without this special convention. Here, the crowning of the king would occur, and then he would appoint his advisers, making them the most important people in the world.

Essrod Ostular intended to be one of them.

Not just intended. He had thrown every aspect of his adult life into getting this appointment. He had tried to appear innocent, with no plans whatsoever.

Because advisers took over if the king died.

If there was an heir, they were only interim. But, if the king were to die young… idle speculation, of course. For now.

 The room sat still, silent, hesitating to speak. “We will now coronate the king.” Essrod watched with little interest. The ceremony had much ceremony. “We, the priests of Summreest do bestow on our king the five divine attributes, love, wisdom, power, justice, and holiness. May each patron look on him with grace and….”

Essrod tuned back in toward the end “..and acting King. May your reign be long.” Then came the part that a man such as Essrod disliked, even hated.

“I pledge my troops and my loyalty to King Charles the 3rd.” The first lord uttered.

 “I pledge my troops and my loyalty to King Charles the 3rd.” The next lord repeated.

 “I pledge my troops and my loyalty to King Charles the 3rd.”

And on and on. Then Essrod offered, with great difficulty:  “I pledge my troops and my loyalty to King Charles the 3rd.”

Then it was over.

Charles rose. “I must appoint my advisers. The first is William Gaut.”

This was to be expected. Then, the very earth held her breath.

“And the second is a Prolk Wentox.”

Essrod reeled. Anger flooded through him. How DARE Charles do this? He was obviously the next in line, even an ignoramus could see that.

He had tried playing nice, doing things legally.

But now?

Now he was going to burn Charles’s reign to the ground. And he didn't care who it affected.

*

Charles thanked the last lord, then sat back in his chair. He had done few things more exhausting. This, however, was far and away the most stressful. He hoped he had chosen well with his advisors.

William was a necessity choice. The man’s family had supported Charles’s own since the Connifell had first occurred. But Prolk, well he was an enemy of Charles’s family. But he was a good man, and allies must be formed. This particular ally may be able to help him bring the kingdom closer together.

A servant approached. “My liege, do you wish to return to your rooms?” Charles closed his eyes. No response was required by the traditions of Borilla.

Charles hated the traditions. “Yes, I would like to return.” He announced to the servants that stood behind him. He stood up crossing the room. The servants opened the door, and Charles Strathcott strode through the doors. He went through the brightly lit room, magnificent red banners catching his eyes as always. He strode through an arching doorway into a long hallway.

He turned right and then left, each hallway looking different. A servant walked past him, then opened the door to his room. He walked in, turned, and nodded to the servants. They bowed, closing the door and retreating. Charles turned his attention to running the kingdom.

There were three main political fashions, near as he could tell. The faction for him, led by his own family. There was one firmly against him. Prolk belonged to that paticular faction, but he wasn’t the leader. That was Tuathol Orgaise. The Orgaises had once controlled the throne, but Charles the First had out-maneuvered them and forced them to turn over the kingdom. They still claimed the kingdom was theirs.

Then there was the neutral faction. This was headed by, by his calculation, Essrod Ostular. It was hard to tell, however, due to the nature of the faction. Charles had almost chosen him to be an advisor. He hadn’t-something had held him back.

All together, there were twenty-seven lords, each having two to three lords below them. That wasn’t including alliances that well respected and influential merchants, priests, and magicians.

 His father had grown lax. The lords thought they were bigger than they were, and the merchants were smuggling like there was no tomorrow. It was going to be hard to keep this kingdom unified.

He sat down and began to try to put it back together.

The Summrests were pushing him to execute magicians. He couldn’t do that now. There were at least five hundred of them in the kingdom, each proclaiming themselves to be the most powerful. The Summrests, however, claimed that they worshipped a plant, which was downright ridiculous. However, as the official church, they held sway, and there was nothing Charles could do about it. He wrote down a rough plan to reduce the ability of magicians to use magic in public.

Charles glanced at the large pile of letters to be returned. He could have his advisors handle them, but that’s what his father had done. And without the watchful eye of a Strathcott, the kingdom had grown into a worse position. He wouldn’t let that happen, especially when one of his advisors was an enemy to the throne.

 

My liege,

Lord Cordoroy has made advancements on my fief. He threatens all that we as a kingdom do not tolerate. I have made it clear that there is to be peace in the kingdom, and he shows that he disagrees by attacking my lands.

You must stop him.

                       Sincerely, Lord Buxtembourg

 

Charles leaned back on his chair. This was common enough that he couldn’t make a scene, or even address Lord Cordoroy. Most likely he had simply sent troops into the area for this very reason. To pass the time. To play political games.

He made a note to talk about respecting each other’s territory, generally speaking, at the next gathering of the lords.

Another letter opened. This was a scouting report from a land across the sea, written by Kolworn Dock. It mentioned a warlike nomadic people that he had steered clear of, with vague descriptions of armor and appearance. They had discovered new seedlings, named by a local hermit as The Osage Polkweed, the Creeping Poopy, and the deciduous raven.

King Charles the 3rd fell asleep in the next page of the report.

*

A man in a brown robe walked through the manor of Lord Essrod slowly. He had a purpose. He was a servant. No, an agent, of Lord Essrod’s. But most importantly, he was a magician. The man in brown had the Gift of remembrance. At least, that’s what he called it. He could touch an object, any object, and know almost its entire history in the blink of an eye. This made him an excellent spy.

There, lying on the table, was his an assignment. After their first meeting, this was the onky way he and Lord Essrod had communicated. Letters addressed to his psuedonym.

-Momento, lady Codoroy has some nice words, don’t you think?

That was all. This meant, to Momento, that Essrod wanted to know what the Codoroy’s had been saying, writing, and doing lately.

A faint grin graced the man’s face. He touched his heart, where the tatoo of a seedling lay.

This’ll be fun.

 

 Chapter two

Spoiler

Charles Strathcott the Third, king of Borilla, sat before his councillors for the first time. The representative from the Summrests, Lord Wentox, Lord Guat, General Griffen, and Gideon Porti. General Griffen, a grizzled man in his mid forties, controlled the armies. Charles was unsure of what General Griffen thought of him, and so had treated him as ambiguously as possible since his father had died. He looked fantastic, though, in the non combat military garb. It was red, for the patron God of power, one of the five divine aspects of Summreest.

“My liege, if we could begin?” He asked, impatient.

“Of course” Said Charles, a little embarrassed. It was his duty to call the meeting to attention, but he had just sat there, like he was still a spectator, brought along by Charles the Second to see how the big men did things.

“Are there any issues that must be brought before the crown?” Charles asked expectantly. He had practiced this line in front of the mirror for hours to get the right inflection. He glanced around, a little nervous. He had to focus to keep those nerves out of his appearance. One must appear strong as a king.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Said General Griffen. “We need to attack Ubresh.”

Charles did as best he could to keep the annoyance off his face. General Griffen and the entire army, really, had been advocating war with their southward neighbor since around the time Charles was born. He obviously let some through however because General Griffen rushed to explain more.

“Ubresh has burned Tusseto to the ground. About three hundred borillans were dislodged and there is about four hundred flomudors in damage.”

Four hundred flomudors? What did they do, burn the town down to the ground?” Four hundred flomudors was a great deal of money. The royal treasury, the largest collection of money on the planet, had just upwards of fifteen thousand flomudors.

This was going to be a problem. A big problem. Charles couldn’t avoid this. He was going to have to make Ubresh pay in one way or another. “Lord Wentox, what should I do? Advise me.”

“My liege, you should send a delegation to Ubresh to demand appeasement for damages incurred. I would be willing to lead the delegation.”

Lord Wentox’s idea was a good one, but he wasn’t about to send someone who was likely still his enemy to a foreign country, representing him and Borilla. “Thank you for the offer, but, as my first advisor, I believe Lord Guat should lead the delegation. Lord Guat?”

“As you command, my liege.” Lord William said. Charles thought he saw a hint of annoyance on his features, but was unable to deal with it right now.

“Now that that is settled, are there any other issues to be brought before the Council?”

Silence.

Here we go. Charles thought. It was time for him to take the biggest gamble of his young monarchy.

“I have thought long and hard on how to keep the people of Borilla in the front of our minds. I have decided that it is time to add another member to this council- an ordinary person. Seeing the looks of skepticism, Charles quickly barreled forward. A King designed and implemented this council, so I find that I can change it as well. So, we will vote. All in favor, say aye.

“Aye” Said Wentox.

“Nay” Said Guat

damnation it. Thought Charles. He had known that Guat had a strong sense of propriety, but not this strong.

Gideon Porti, garbed in fine silk derived from who knows where, had been silent up till this point, but he rose and said “Nay.”

General Griffen opposed Charles with a resonant, “Nay”

The priest, who only voted or spoke on matters considered religious, rose and said “Aye.” to the shock of everyone. How was this a religious vote?

They were still behind a vote and needed a majority to win. Charles had hoped it wouldn’t come to him having to use his power,but he stood and said, “I Charles, king of Borilla, use all three of my votes to ‘Aye’. A common person will be part of this cabinet when we next meet. Council dismissed.”

He then strode out of the council room confidently, leaving five very shocked members behind.

*

Memento strode through the crowd with a purpose. He was going to collect a few choice materials from The Dark Bear, a highly used and highly illegal shop.  He walked in and got the distinct feeling he wasn’t safe. However, Memento knew that was the owner of the shop’s Gift. Apparently before he got the Gift he had been an assassin, but because of the Gift, which he couldn’t turn off, he could no longer perform that function. So now he used his knowledge of the underworld to sell equipment.

Today Memento was looking for getting close to Lady Cordoroy- dress clothes, some fake certificates, that sort of thing. Momento shivered, the fear still creeping him out. He bought what he needed as quickly as possible so he could leave that ...feeling… behind. He walked into the crowd and disappeared. He was going to find a wagon or something likewise untraceable to get to Vilzen, the town where Lord Cordoroy’s lands lay. He- Memento quickly became aware of someone following him. Just the footsteps sounded different, even in this hubbub of people.

He quickly headed down an alley, drawing the knife he always carried with him. His was a dangerous profession. Memento was reasonably confident he could deal with one man. He had done it before.

A man, shorter than Memento, walked into the alley. He had a large sword.

Memento blanched.

The man was garbed in all grey clothing, and looked, very, very, capable.

He walked slowly, the sword simmering in the heat. But that wasn’t right. Memento cocked his head. It was spring. Why would the blade be-His thoughts were cut off as the large blade traveled just inches from his face.

Memento held his knife at the ready, prepared to stab his opponent after the next swing. The swing had been large, if he had been ready, he could have darted in as soon as the blade passed by him.

The man abruptly took his hand, which took Memento off guard. Then heat traveled up his arm. He felt everything warming. He struggled as best he could, but the man had an iron grip. The thought that his gift was heating things by touch passed through his mind, but was overtaken by a sudden fever. The fever grew worse, and Memento stopped struggling. Then, he passed out.

 

 

World Map

Spoiler

 

Thanks for reading!

 

Edited June 6, 2017 by Dragon314
Added World Map

[Hemalurgic Headshot he/him]

Very nice! The intrigue has immediately pulled me into the story. Please post more.

[StrikerEZ he/him]

Hmm...this is really quite interesting. I'm still not sure who to root for, and that's a good thing. It keeps me guessing. Honestly, this is quite intriguing. I think I'll wait for more before I start asking questions.

[Dragon314 he/him]

Thanks guys! I have now added chapter two!

[StrikerEZ he/him]

Hmm...I really like the idea of Gifts. It seems pretty interesting. Who could this gray-clothed assassin be? Definitely doesn't want Essrod finding out information about Lady Codoroy.

[Hemalurgic Headshot he/him]

Why didn't you put it in a separate post!? My upvotes want to give themselves to you!

[Dragon314 he/him]

2 minutes ago, StrikerEZ said:

Hmm...I really like the idea of Gifts. It seems pretty interesting. Who could this gray-clothed assassin be? Definitely doesn't want Essrod finding out information about Lady Codoroy.

@StrikerEZ I don't even know here it came from. I'm literally world building as I go. Started with, hey, imma write a scene with political implications. Im about as discovery writer as you can be. 

@Hemalurgic_Headshot Thank you for the support! If you really want to you can up vote the reply, but I don't really care.

Edited June 4, 2017 by Dragon314
Adding stuff