Four Beheadings and a Funeral Read online

  There was also some basic information that went along with the population number and race breakdown.

  * * *

  Holding: Coggeshall

  Type: Village/Dukedom

  Population: 2552 and growing

  Morale: Good.

  Loyalty: Good

  Hope: Decent.

  Fecundity: Moderate.

  Cleanliness: Low.

  * * *

  The low in cleanliness made me feel a little queasy. Maybe it was because we had farms indoors. Hopefully that was it…

  By those metrics, at least, things seemed like they were on the up and up in Coggeshall.

  But none of it really gave me an idea for what the magic building should be. Or, even, what it could be. Given how things had been worded, it seemed like the building would need to be outside. I suppose it might have been possible to build a large enough chamber inside the mountain to allow the magic building to be freestanding, but that just seemed like a lot of extra work.

  I opened my eyes back up and looked up into the sky.

  The blue was dark and beautiful.

  I pulled out the little magic cube, and gave it another peek. It was small and felt hard, like stone. And it was nearly completely black. Not shiny in the slightest, more like it was a small thing devoid of color. But I could also feel the power it held, almost like it was desperate to be released out onto this plane of existence.

  Everything I’d seen in this world had led me to believe that what was said mattered. A lot. And that it was often possible to twist things around to your benefit as long as you were within the boundaries of what was written. So, what was written...

  * * *

  DO YOU WANT TO BUILD A BUILDING?

  You have been given the choice of one (1) magical building supplied by the gods. What will you choose?

  Abattoir?

  Alchemist Laboratory?

  Armor-smithy?

  Bakery?

  Butcher?

  Candlemaker?

  Cobblery/Cordwainer?

  Fighting Pits?

  Glassmaker?

  Shrine?

  Skunkworks?

  Smelter?

  Tailor?

  Tavern?

  The choice is yours, and not limited to this list. Happy choosing!

  * * *

  I got a magical building. It specified magical. And building. But that was pretty much the extent of it. There was nothing in the text itself saying nothing defensive or offensive in nature — that tidbit came from the Eight as relayed by Mister Paul. That was enough of a rule for me to follow, even if it wasn’t written out directly.

  There was nothing indicating a limit on the size of the building, nor the nature of it. Could I pick a specific building? Would the building be filled appropriately? I mean, if I picked a glassmaker, would the materials to make glass already be in place? If I picked an arcane library, would the books be there? What was the definition of building the gods worked from? And as I sat there on my balcony, I wondered if the magic building cube extended to specific buildings... Maybe I could build the Library of Congress. Or the Winchester Arms factory. I needed Lee. He was great at this sort of tactical thinking.

  So what would Lee have said if I’d proposed these things? He’s probably have pointed out that even if we had Winchester Arms Factory, or any sort of gun factory, we wouldn’t have a bullet factory. And guns were useless without bullets. I mean, I suppose we could make bullets and then find a means of putting tubes together. That could work. But what kind of weird funky bullets would I need to actually penetrate the skins of things like trolls? Or dragons? Would dragons be susceptible to bullets? Would we need to use mithril to make bullets? Could a contemporary bullet factory handle mithril bullet making? Was there magic that could counter projectiles easily? It seemed like guns was a choice, but perhaps not a good choice. At least not yet. Maybe not ever.

  The library was an interesting idea, because we’d have access to all the acquired knowledge of modern Earth. Which could entirely change the path of Vuldranni as a planet. Lee would probably point out that the information in the Library of Congress was based on Earth’s history and science. Where obviously, there was no magic. And the laws of physics worked differently. As did biology. Which gave me no reason to think chemistry would be the same. So would a ton of wrong information be useful? It might make for good entertainment, but I couldn’t see a point for it here.

  But maybe there was a mystical library from Vuldranni’s past that would have some huge benefit. Some lost library of magical things. Or a dungeon—

  A dungeon was tempting. Our citizens could level up and get a ton of cool abilities. And yet, who’d actually make it all the way through? We might get a lot of powerful motherfuckers, but we’d also inevitably lose people. I mean, I barely made it through. Well, not exactly true, I broke the dungeon. And now I wasn’t allowed in any more dungeons. No, a dungeon didn’t make sense.

  But a lost library? A lost treasury? A lost trove of artifacts? That made sense. Of course, only if the magic building came fully stocked. I had to assume it came fully stocked. Otherwise, what was the point? It’d just be a shell of a building. So could it be a specific building?

  I held the cube in my hand, and I thought, “Library of Congress.”

  You are selecting LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, but you have not specified a year. Which year?

  I stopped thinking immediately. I didn’t want to get stuck with that.

  But that made it very clear that a specific building would work. And that specificity was key.

  I wondered if I’d be able to get a specific year on a legendary building. One thing was clear: we were thinking too small on this. I stood up, and was about to head inside to talk to Nikolai about the building, when I remembered the other message Mister Paul had given me — I had to get better fast, but I didn’t want to be too obvious to the higher powers. If this magic building was being powered by the Eight, then anything I chose would be seen by them. Maybe it was better to find something that wasn’t so overt as a library of legend.

  Or maybe it was worth the risk.

  Chapter Nine

  I didn’t go to Nikolai.

  I did summon a few prinkies with orders to deliver small shiny rocks to the bed in his office, however. We couldn’t have Nikolai getting too comfortable.

  Instead, I decided to use the historian we had on site. Hetsesta, the Imperial Historian, was sitting by herself on a public balcony overlooking the river. She had a blue-leather covered book in her lap, and her personal prinky sat next to her, holding a tea tray and small tea set.

  I pulled over a chair and stood next to her.

  “Mind if we speak a moment?” I asked.

  She looked up at me, and smiled.

  “Duke of Coggeshall,” she said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I was wondering if we might chat about history.”

  “Ah, that depends.”

  “On?”

  “What are you offering me?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “What are you offering me to teach you history?”

  “You’re going to charge me?”

  “It is my profession—”

  I kicked the chair I’d brought over away, and took a breath while smiling my biggest smile. Hetsesta stopped talking and raised an eyebrow.

  “Lady,” I said, “you’re part of this community, which means you need to use your skills to make—”

  She held up a finger to stop me. “I am no follower of yours, and you would do well to remember that.”

  “I notice you didn’t follow the princess out of here.”

  “Her path is her own. And leads her somewhere I have no desire to go.”

  “Which is?”

  “If you want to know, you need—”

  “You’re charging me for that too?”

  “My services are not free, dear boy.”

  “Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll refrain from to
ssing you over into the river. Is that a good enough payment for you?”

  “You would stoop to violence?”

  “Ain’t stooping for me to be violent,” I said, crossing my arms and giving my biceps a hard flex for good measure.

  She smiled, and cackled.

  “Took you long enough,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Your tea is disgusting,” she said, and flung the cup over the edge.

  The prinky seemed delighted, and threw the whole tray over. Plates, cookies, and a metal pot all clattered down the rocks and into the river below.

  “A bit much there, Reginald,” Hetsesta said. “The cookies were worth saving.”

  The prinky went up on his tippy-toes to look into the chasm.

  “Don’t bother going after them,” she told the prinky. “We’ve got to have a chat with our duke here.”

  “Now I’m your duke?”

  “You will be if you play your cards right.”

  “I didn’t know we were playing cards.”

  “Everyone plays games,” she said. “It is up to you to identify and win them.”

  “Because I’m the duke?”

  “Because you’re a player.”

  “You’re confusing.”

  “One of the few joys of getting old is the being confusing or confused, and no one can tell the difference.”

  “I suppose I look forward to that.”

  “I have the feeling old age is not for you.”

  “You think I’ll die young?”

  “I try not to think about it.”

  “But—”

  “Is this the line of questioning you came here for?”

  “No, but you were being a pain in the ass a second ago, and now you’re twisting me in conversational circles, so I’m really just trying to catch up.”

  “How is that working for you?”

  “Poorly.”

  “Pull your seat over. Let us have a talk.”

  “Do I get to steer the conversation?”

  “Oh, you can try.”

  I shook my head, but dutifully pulled the chair back over and sat down.

  “I wanted to ask you about buildings lost to history, or steeped in legend,” I said.

  “And I wanted to talk to you about being a duke,” she replied.

  “I am a duke.”

  “You have the title, but you need to work on so much--“

  “I am working on it.”

  “And I would like to help you.”

  “Five seconds ago you said you were charging me.”

  “That was before you threatened to throw me in the river.”

  “That worked?”

  “It was an exercise in returning your spine.”

  “Oddly, I want to throw you in the river more now.”

  “I would like to see you try.”

  “That can be arranged,” I said, starting to stand.

  She put her hand out and whispered something.

  I felt a tingling over my body, but shrugged it away. I got to my feet and reached for her.

  “You win this round,” she said quickly, leaning away from me.

  “What did you try and cast on me?”

  “Something that clearly did not work.”

  “How about you don’t cast magic on me any more?”

  “As long as you agree to not throw me over the edge, I think we can come to an understanding.”

  “And you help me with whatever I ask for.”

  “And more, my liege.”

  “You’ll swear allegiance?”

  “I suppose I have little choice.”

  “Of course you have a choice. You don’t have to.”

  “And you would let me remain here, living without a care in the world?”

  “That’s a bit of a stretch,” I said. “You live here, you pull your own weight. Whatever it is you can do.”

  “Which in my case is limited to talking about the past.”

  “Teaching.”

  “Two sides of the same coin.”

  “You really enjoy a meandering conversation, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I love it.”

  “Can we get back to what I came here for?”

  “Your spine?”

  “The river calls.”

  “Ask your question, duke.”

  “Swear your allegiance.”

  “I swear I will be your able and loyal subject, and to serve you to the best of my meagre abilities.”

  “I accept you as a member in good standing of my holding,” I replied. “And as you help me, so I will keep you safe.”

  “It lacks decorum, but makes up in heart, I suppose.”

  “I do mean what I say.”

  “I know,” she said, reaching out and patting my leg. “It is the reason I chose to stay with you.”

  “I’m honored.” I was also hungry, so I pulled out my magical pizza sack lunch, and grabbed a slice.

  Her eyes widened.

  “Now what is that delectable treat?” she asked.

  “Detroit-style pizza,” I said. “Want some?”

  “If you insist,” she said, eagerly taking the piece from me.

  She bit into it and chewed, eliciting some nice sounds of delight. She was enjoying it. Never one to let a moment to eat pizza go by, I grabbed another slice, and pulled out the handy flask as well.

  Her eyebrows went up ever so slightly looking at the drink.

  “Bit early in the day,” she said, “but I might as well.”

  “It’s not—” I started, but she’d already grabbed the flask and taken a healthy swig.

  Hetsesta’s face scrunched up in confusion.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “Root beer.”

  “It tastes very sweet.”

  “It is.”

  “I like it.”

  “Me too. But there’s no alcohol.”

  “Pity,” she replied, and returned to her pizza.

  We ate there in a sort of mutually respectful silence.

  She finished faster than I did, and then looked over at me expectantly.

  I held the bag open toward her, and she reached in and fished out another slice. I nodded in respect.

  She tore off a piece of the square slice and handed it Reginald, her prinky. He sniffed it, and then gobbled it up so fast I thought he might accidentally eat one of his own fingers.

  Hetsesta didn’t seem alarmed, but I resolved to keep my hands away from Prinky mouths in the future.

  “You wanted to talk about history,” she started, “is that right?”

  “I have a few questions, yeah,”

  “The time to ask is now, Duke of Coggeshall.”

  “Are there, I mean, it’s kind of hard to put this succinctly, but are there any structures or buildings of legend?”

  “Surely.”

  “Specifically?”

  “The buildings of legend are uncountable, for there are as many legends as there are cultures. What is it you are seeking?”

  “Okay, something from Glaton?”

  “Your question is inordinately broad, but I will do what I can.”

  “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Well, there is the Fortress of Ajax, north of Glaton, somewhere in the mountains. Said to be the greatest redoubt ever conceived, and built for one of the greatest generals this nation has known. He never lived to see it complete, but it would serve as his family’s bastion during two insurrections and two wars. It is because of this fortress the Glaton family exists to this day.”

  “Can’t be a fortress.”

  “Rules for history?”

  I took a really big bite of pizza, and chewed slowly. An obvious stalling technique, but I needed the time to think. How much should I tell Hetsesta about what was going on? She’d sworn allegiance to me, but I had the distinct feeling she wasn’t above breaking her bond. She was slippery like that, and there for sure was more going on with her than was apparent on the surface. She wasn�
�t just some learned old lady. She had magic at her command, and some serious sass on top of that. Not that old ladies couldn’t have sass — the best ones did. Just, there was an absence of fear about her, and that made her strange.

  But really, the magic building couldn’t be a secret, not for very long at least. As soon as some giant structure appeared, the cat would be out of the bag. And maybe telling Hetsesta would help me make an intelligent decision for once.

  “Let me come clean,” I said. “I’ve got this sort of reward, and it’s a magical building. From what I can tell, it will give me any building. So, I thought, maybe there’s something from legend or history that would be a strong choice.”

  “Is there a caveat?”

  “No defensive structures.”

  “Yes, then the Fortress of Ajax would be a poor building to select.”

  “Is there, I mean—”

  “You could consider the fighting pits of Galladorn or the Breeding Pits of—”

  “Is there a mystical library?”

  “Again, there are many. Anything you can imagine has probably been built within one of the lands of this planet.” She squirmed in her chair a little until she was facing me. “What is it you really want?”

  “I want something that’s going to help Coggeshall.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  “Ah, the bane of the leader. The one answer you are never allowed to give, and the one answer that is all too often the truth.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s something I’m learning. And it’s annoying.”

  “It is. And yet, it is one of the problems being in charge. You are expected to have answers.”

  “Is there some place that holds artifacts of power?”

  “Several. The Maze of the Mad King is thought to hold more artifacts than any singular place in history. But I doubt you would want that here.”

  “I had similar feelings about a dungeon.”

  “I doubt a dungeon would qualify. A dungeon, at least in the capacity I think you mean, is built around a being that must be summoned and bound. It is not exactly a building.”