Somewhere in Araxion

[Allot]

Albert nearly cackled as he laid down the copy of the proclamation from Eliria.
"I told ye, didn't I?" he said gleefully. "Was only a matter o' time, anyway. Just like 'er ol' dad, she is."
Eldynuil glanced at the paper, and sat back in his chair.
"Quite," he said.
"Let's just hope no hobgoblins get in this time, eh?" said Albert, pouring some Glenfiddich into two glasses.
"I don't think they will have chance, actually," said Eldynuil, calmly.
Albert looked at Eldynuil, trying to decipher what that last statement had meant. Albert turned his old man stare up to level 6, but Eldynuil had had practice on deer and such. Albert looked away and downed the liquor.
"Quite perceptive of you, Elfinshi," said a voice from the shadows.
Albert leaped out of his chair and tried to speak. The alcohol forbade him to do so. So he merely pointed and made strange "awk" noises. Percy Rutherford stepped out of the shadows and swung himself up onto a stool.
"Do tell your friend to calm down," he said to Eldynuil, who hadn't moved. "As I was saying, you are very perceptive. I have come to the same conclusion."
Eldynuil nodded, and patted Albert on the pack. Albert sat down.
"Yer one of them IB ger-nomes, right? What do you want?" said Albert suspiciously.
"My organization still has a vested interest in Lady Allot, and therefore any hobgoblin related incidents would not be in our best interests."
Albert's lips moved silently as he tried to decipher that sentence as well.
"You know what she plans to do, then?" said Eldynuil.
"Oh no," said Percy. "We don't 'know' anything. I merely have a 99.9% success rate of predicting what people will do based on past actions and perceived personality traits."
"Ah," said Eldynuil, nodding, "just like me then."
"Quite."
"Indeed."
"Rather."
Albert was confused.
"What are you two sayin' in yer fancy language? What's she gonna do?"
Eldynuil and Percy looked at each other, then nodded in sync. Eldynuil broke the bottle of Glenfiddich over Albert's head as he slumped to the floor.
"I do hope you didn't damage the man," said Percy.
"Oh no, I am most aware of the potential dangers of head injuries. I made quite sure to aim for a non-fatal area," said Eldynuil, standing back and putting on his cloak. "I assume you have some method or transport," he said.
Percy smiled. "Oh yes," he said. "We're going to fly."

[Leo Fenrir]

How mysterious. *like* WANT MORE...

[Allot]

"My Lady!" yelled Eldynuil, knocking out a hobgoblin with a karate chop to the solar plexus. "Put down the decree writing pen! You're attracting the hobgoblins!"

"Hush, Eldynuil," said Isabelle, chewing her pen as she pondered the decree. Three hobgoblins abseiled through the nearest window. Eldynuil sent them back through with a roundhouse kick.

"There, done," she said, recapping her pen and sealing the decree in an envelope. Edynuil sat down, panting. He'd knocked out at least a hundred evil goblins in the past fifteen minutes. He collapsed on the floor.

"Send this to Eliria, would you?" she said, dropping the envelope onto Eldynuil's recumbent form.

Eldynuil tried to lift the envelope, but was too tired.

-----

"Now, you see class," said Dr. Butler, PhD. "That was a classic example of dramatic suspense. Does anyone have any questions?"

And then some hobgoblins jumped out.

[Allot]

It was midnight. It would have inappropriate to begin something like this at any time other than midnight, and so midnight it was. The moon, as many teenage girls have come to expect, was full. The light from the satellite glinted off the leaves and grass surrounding Eliria. Here in Eliria, despite the time of night, the streets were still crammed with people. The Babkhans and native Elirians were having shouting matches over who could scream "GET YER MUTTON" louder. The proletariat were scrambling to gain entrance to one of the few underground show prisons, where they could illegally watch prisoners being torn apart by wild tortoises. As all leaders know, to ban something is to increase the demand for it tenfold, and the need for sadistic entertainment had risen exponentially since Duke Nathan's ban on corporal punishment. The populace thought (in general) that this was perfectly natural because, they reckoned, the buggers are bound to have done something wrong.

Away from all this, in the city centre, the few Cudgelers who could be trusted (read: bribed) had set up a perimeter guard around the palace. There were no mutton sellers here. In the silence of the night, one could almost hear Isabelle's decree pen scratching away at the parchment*.

She sat at her desk, with a lone candle illuminating the parchment. After all the flowery "let it be decreed by the Grace and Will" stuff, she was just missing two words.

"I. THAT __________________________ SHALL BE THE NEW DUKE OF ELWYNN"

She tapped the blank space with her pen. She had several names in mind, none of which appealed to her. She sat back and closed her eyes, and tried to think.


Far away, in the foothills near Eliria, an alarm went off. It went WHOOP. Inside the cave, red lights began to flash and the hobgoblins jumped off their cots and slid down the pole in the floor (in a distinct firefighter-like fashion).
"Right," said the boss goblin, pointing at a blueprint of Castle Eliria. "Alpha Squadron, you enter through this window here." He drew a circle on the window next to Isabelle's room in red marker. "Beta and Charlie, you go through the main doors and take out this big'un." He circled a large icon shaped like a skull on the map. It read: "CRAAzy ELPH"**.
"No foul ups this time, alright? Grab the target, in the bag, and back out, right?"
The squadron leaders nodded, and slung the coils of rope over their shoulders.
"Alright men, GO! Remember Joppa!"
The squadron leaders rushed out of the cave towards Eliria, shouting to their goblins. As they silently crept towards the main walls, they thought: "What did he mean, remember Joppa?"

Albert put the cup of tea down next to Isabelle and crept out of the room. It was 2am. She had been up for four hours with that bloody decree. What the hell could she be writing? Albert ducked into a side room and pulled out a cigarette (Isabelle hated them). He was just relaxing when he heard a clink from somewhere above him. It took a minute for the Memory Division to track down the relevant files and send them via internal memo to Central Processing, who sent a message to his legs. In fact, Albert still hadn't really figured it out when he cannoned into Isabelle, knocking her to the ground, moments before the hobgoblin assault team abseiled through the window.

"mmmph", said Isabelle.
"Yes, my Lady?"
"MMMPH."
"Oh, right, sorry," said Albert, sheepishly getting off her and standing up. It was going well until a hobgoblin leaped up and stabbed him in the neck with a tranquilizer dart. As he fell forward, already in Sleepy Land, Isabelle backed into a corner, surrounded by Alpha Squadron. One of them jumped out of nowhere towards her neck. Isabelle lashed out and sent it flying. The rest of the hobgoblins stopped moving. They remembered fighting Eldynuil last time. Then they remembered Isabelle was half Elfinshi. As a group, they took a step back. Isabelle reached behind her, hoping to find some sort of edged thing to use as a weapon. Her hand came back holding Campbell and Reece's Biology for the IB Diploma: Higher Level***. The section on photosynthesis took out two more hobgoblins. Before she could prepare another textbook volley, the doors slammed open and two guards (who conveniently weren't Cudgelers) rushed in. The hobgoblins relaxed. This was alright. Isabelle made a dive for the door as the hobgoblins descended on the unfortunate guards. She slammed the doors behind her and barred them, flinching as the guards screamed in pain****. She was about to start running again when Eldynuil came around the corner. He had four hobgoblins attached to each leg, and several on his head, repeatedly stabbing him with needles. This did not seem to affect him in any way, except for that he had to take more effort to walk. Isabelle rushed towards him and started to peel the hobgoblins off, making sure to knock them on the head so that they didn't jump back up. When he had been de-goblinized, he shoved her into a storage closet, locked it, and then ran towards the main doors, where the screams of the two guards had been reduced to incoherent babbling and crying. He wrenched open the doors and kicked the person writing the footnotes. It was only after he had ensured that the castle was de-infested that he let Isabelle out of the closet. She was not amused at all.


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* If you were a bat or something, I mean. There's no way you could hear it. No one's ears are that sharp, right?
** Although military geniuses, spelling was one area where the hobgoblins tended to give up
*** Oh, hey oxidative phosphorylation. FUCK YOU.
**** The natural hunting method for hobgoblins is to pin down their prey with their superior numbers and force them to write a TOK essay with a pencil in their mouth.

[Aurangzeb Khan]

Meanwhile in Shirekeep the Kaiser mused quietly to himself.

Note to self: Eliria. Rapid Reaction Force. Dravot. Flamethrowers.

[Allot]

This has now become the general thread for me to post my musings in. There is no need to reply unless you want to. I hope the flamethrowers are for the goblins.

Albert shook Isabelle's shoulder gently as he laid down his tray. Isabelle had fallen asleep at her desk, the candle burned all the way down to the little stump of wax that remained. Albert couldn't help noticing the words on the page under her head. He froze.
That's what Eldynuil and that gnome meant! What the hell's the point of this? There's no nobles left in Elwynn to do this bloody job! thought Albert, connecting thoughts quicker than usual. He turned back to the desk in time to meet Eldynuil's stare, as the Elfinshi slipped the decree into an envelope and slid it into the desk drawer.

"You knew this was going to happen," whispered Albert, aware of the still slumbering Isabelle. "Tell me how!"
Eldynuil rubbed his head tiredly (he had had a long night hunting hobgoblins). "As I explained before, Albert," he said, "I have had ample time to devise a model of Isabelle's psyche through which I can determine the likelihood of any action. When I say I," he added, "I really mean Percy. That gnome can do some very strange things with a triangle graph."
"What's a triangle graph?"
"I don't know, but it looks impressive when he uses it. Anyway, we predicted that she had negative connotations regarding the position of Duke due to the unfortunate circumstances that led to her father's premature death."
"But that wasn't because he was Duke! It was... well, yeah, I guess it was, but-"
"This is more than a mere regard for personal safety. Unlike her father, whom I did not know, I do not believe that Isabelle has ever actively sought power. Her father spearheaded a revolution. I believe Isabelle would rather have things nice and tidy and manageable than be like the Khan."
Eldynuil shut the blinds, darkening the room. He brushed Isabelle's auburn hair out of her face and pulled it over her shoulder.
"Look at her. She is wearing herself thin, with the Ministry and the Duchy. I also think she has several side projects that she refuses to tell me about. This is for the best."
Albert didn't have tears in his eyes, but they shone with moisture. "But who's going to be Duke?" he asked.
"I don't know. I'm sure it will be someone suitable." Laying a copy of the Eliria Gazette on the table, Eldynuil led Albert out of the room and shut the doors.

Isabelle counted to ten, and then raised her head. She would have to keep Eldynuil farther away from her, he was remarkably observant. She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small glass disk, about the size of a coffee coaster. She put it down on the desk and tapped it with her finger. It began to glow, and a miniature version of Isabelle (albeit, wearing a turban and a robe) appeared.

"Report," said Isabelle.
"Things are seeming very bad for Turkey, Highness, very bad," said the apparition, in a very offensive accent. Isabelle raised an eyebrow.
"You did not tell me where to build, Highness, so now every country has more armies than Turkey!"
"I was asleep! Can't you figure that out on your own?"
"I am you, Highness, I cannot do anything you have not already thought of! How the hell am I supposed to invent orders?"
Isabelle rubbed her eyes. "Shit," she said. "Russia will destroy us."
"This I am afraid of, Highness."
"Thank god it's just a game," said Isabelle, tapping the disk again.
"What?!" screamed the apparition. "How can you be saying this? My life is depending on-" it vanished as the glow from the disk faded. Isabelle stored it back in the drawer and drew back the curtains. Sun washed over the Eliria Gazette. Isabelle glanced down.

ELWYNNBRIGADEN SPARKS OIL CRISIS FOR FLAMETHROWERS

She skipped that and kept going.

DOES THE KAISER HAVE A NEW MOUSTACHE?

She was about to throw the whole paper in the trash when the bottom of the page caught her eye.
NEW DUKE IN GOLDSHIRE

Isabelle's chair hit the floor as she stared at the picture of Yvain Wintersong. She could have sworn she'd seen the man before. A very long time ago, on a screen somewhere. As she tried to hold on to the memory, it vanished.

[Allot]

The all too well-known alarm that signaled a decree being written went off, waking the entire residence of the castle. Within minutes the guards - who had gone through extensive training under the watchful eye of Eldynuil - positioned themselves in strategic locations around Isabelle's room, ready for the hobgoblin onslaught that was sure to come. Eldynuil himself was suspiciously lacking from the premises. As we know (but the guards do not), he is inside the room, watching Isabelle quietly while Albert screams at her.

"This makes no sense!" yelled Albert, flinging the paper, the ink still wet, to the ground. "You think this is bad? What the hell's your problem?" He remembered who he was speaking to and looked down sheepishly, but his rage caught up with him again. He opened his mouth to continue but Isabelle held up a hand. She was wearing the same dress that she had worn that day in Eliria, when she had evaded the city guards and caused a major riot, all to see the Duke. Needless to say, the dress had seen better days.

"Look around you, Albert. Metaphorically, I mean. Who is left? Eiserdion is gone, and with him Scott. The Prince and his Elw are gone. Nathan is gone. Harald is gone. I can't even hold on to an Antican. And Leo's caught up in some other bloody mess. I have no desire to deal with any of this, nor do I believe that I am capable. Everyone has their own problems to deal with, including me. I do not intend to burden a Duchy with my personal problems."
Isabelle spoke not in anger, but as a matter of fact. It was worse than raining blows. Albert's face contorted as he was forced to realize the shambles the Duchy was in. Isabelle noticed.
"Don't be so dramatic, Albert," she said, "All is not lost. There is clearly a new wave of people coming, a new generation who can lead Elwynn back into the forefront, just like those before them."
Eldynuil spoke, for the first time. "I remind you, Lady Allot, that you are only twenty three. Please stop acting like you are a wizened old crone," he said.
Isabelle smiled. "I know," she said, looking at the ground. She looked up suddenly. "I have no ill feelings about leaving Elwynn like this. And I'm not dying, I'll just...fade back into Araxion." Albert and Eldynuil's heads jerked up and they stared at each other for a few seconds. Isabelle, oblivious, continued.
"I can finally start doing something there. And I'm going to keep the Ministry. I have a few interesting ideas about that already. In any case, one day, maybe two. Then we can start all over again."
Outside, the rampaging hobgoblins failed to tread on the first orchid, which had just begun to bloom.

[Leo Fenrir]

And Leo's caught up in some other bloody mess.

Yes death is quiet a nuisance at times.

[Harald of Froyalan]

Harald is gone.

Harald is back and petitions the Duchess to confirm him as Count of Cimmeria.

[Allot]

Isabelle ran through the woods, branches whipping at her face. She didn't have to look back, the flames behind her were so high they were reflected on the leaves in front of her. The dancing fire turned the usually dark forest into an eerie world of black and red. Isabelle could hear someone laughing. She ran on, hands raised to protect her eyes. She looked down and saw she was wearing a white dress. She paused for a moment against a massive oak tree when she heard crashing footsteps coming through the forest towards her. She circled slowly behind the oak and crouched down in a bush, hidden by its leaves. The trampling steps grew louder, leaves crunching underfoot of whoever it was. She put her hands over her mouth as a wildman broke through the trees, holding an naked sword. He looked around, and for a moment Isabelle felt his gaze linger on her. Before the blade had time to pierce her flesh, she had woken up.

[Leo Fenrir]

I do recall that last time you started having bad dreams you died... A therapist maybe?

[Allot]

By all rights, it should have been a dark and stormy night. There should have been lightning and dramatic crashes of thunder. Instead, all Edaire got was a cloudless night sky, a full moon, and some crickets. Edaire, who was a traditionalist, was not pleased. Despite the weather being uncooperative, nothing short of the Khan would have parted Edaire from his hooded black cloak, which was supposed to enshroud him in mystery and intrigue. Again unfortunately, Mrs. Soupson had got the measurements wrong, so Edaire looked like a little old lady in a babushka. Nevertheless, he was determined to get the entrance ceremony right, if nothing else. He glanced around subversively, and then darted into the open cave mouth, where a makeshift wooden door blocked his path. He knocked on it four times in a distinct pattern. He heard a creak, and then someone whispered: "How do the red orchids bloom?"
Edaire smiled, satisfied, then replied in his own stage whisper: "In the footsteps of fallen angels, brother."
He paused, waiting for the reply. Instead, he heard a frantic flipping of pages.
"Hang on, that's not in the script," said the voice from behind the door. "Where'd you get that from?"
Edaire frowned. "It's on line two, you nitwit," he replied, angry that this too was going wrong.
"Not it's not, I've got the page right here in front of me. It says: 'And Lo, the Bellkeeper-'"
"You must be missing a page or something," said Edaire, "I should know, I wrote the damn thing."
"I'm not."
There was a pause.
"You're not what?" said Edaire.
"I'm not missing a page, look, they've got little numbers-"
"You are."
"Aren't."
"Are."
"Aren't."
"Yes, you bloody well are. Let me in, you clown," said Edaire frustratedly.
There was more flipping of pages.
"Hang on," said the voice of the invisible doorkeeper, "now you've gone and jumped to page twelve."
The makeshift door became a makeshift rug, with the invisible door keeper under it. Edaire stepped through, fuming, into the antechamber of the Halls of the Illuminated Brethren of the Orchid Sunset. He pulled at his hood. Here, he was no longer Edaire - he was Supreme Grand Master of the Order. He took the Rod of D'Faw (B'Caww's dyslexic demi-god cousin) from the cupboard, along with the Scepter of Might and the Flail of Power. He readied himself, then strode into the main chamber of the cave. He frowned as he heard voices - the meeting had started without him. He opened his mouth to admonish the assembly when he heard the Grand High Keeper of the Soggy Notebooks say: "Item Four on the agenda: Deposing the Duke of Elwynn." Edaire grinned. That was alright, then. Everything was still essentially going according to plan.

[Allot]

Isabelle had still not woken up. Not that Eldynuil was concerned, but there were Ducal matters to attend to, now that (for whatever reason) the palace guards had denied him entry to the palace at Eliria. He has therefore resolved to awaken Isabelle, with minimal loss of limbs for both parties. As he entered he noticed a discarded black cloak on the floor, still dry from the lack of rain of last night. He picked up the garment and turned the cloth over in his fingers. Just then, there was a polite knock on the door. He turned to see Major Wrangle (he has been promoted since we last saw him), who started when he saw Eldynuil.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I came to see Lady Allot. But," he said after a pause, "perhaps you'd be better. I think you'll want to see this."
Eldynuil folded the cloak and placed it neatly on a chair before following the Major out, down four flights of stairs into the Strangelovian Panic Room. Two more unknown, yet high ranking officers were waiting. Wrangle sat down and nodded at a chair. Eldynuil remained standing.
"Ahem," said one of the officers, who was bald and had a very large and droopy moustache. "Mr. Eldynuil," he said, pronouncing it wrong, as usual.
"Do you know where Her Excellency was last night?" interrupted the shorter officer, who did not have a moustache but whose eyes were the sort of unfriendly eyes that usually belonged to people like Grand-Viziers and evil overlords. They should have pierced Eldynuil and found out exactly what he'd done wrong. Since it was Eldynuil, they bounced off.
"No," replied Eldynuil shortly. "I do not make it my business to track her Excellency's every move."
Major Wrangle nodded, because he knew that he did. The moustached officer glanced at Wrangle, who nodded. The short one who was beginning to unsettle Eldynuil stood up and rapped on a separate door. After a few moments of silence, a man was shoved in. His hands and feet were shackled, and he had a gag over his mouth. He wore the kind of robe you would expect a necromancer to wear. This was obvious because the label which read "Adult Necromancer's Costume XL" was sticking out conspicuously from the hem.
"This, Mr. Eldynuil, is-" began the moustached one, but the short one silenced him with a glance.
"Do you know this man?" he asked, staring at Eldynuil intently. Eldynuil was already positive that he did not, but he glanced at the man anyway. The man had a pointed, hawk like nose and blond hair, and looked to be about twenty. Eldynuil turned back to the officer and said no.
"This man, Eldynuil," said Wrangle, "was apprehended last night after a raid on some old cave where a cult has been meeting for several months. Do you know anything about this?"
"No," said Eldynuil calmly.
"Unfortunately they appear to be some strange group of fanatics that worship the Duke of Elwynn. However, due to the current Duke's connections with the whole...Ohl'Tar thing, they have renounced him and have been plotting against him. It was quite odd. We found a number of previous Dukes' personal effects among them. What's more," continued Wrangle, "is that they appeared to be plotting dukicide. That's not a word. Well, murder of the Duke."
"Very unsettling, the whole thing," murmured the moustache man.
It took a few moments for synapses to click, and then Eldynuil stared at Wrangle in horror.
"Why were you going to see Isabelle, Wrangle?" he asked. Wrangle looked at him oddly.
"What do you mean?"
"How can you...how dare you even think that she could have any involvement in this?" Eldynuil said angrily.
"That's not really the point, sir," said the moustache man, "If you could just-"
"Do you recognize this, sir?" asked the short officer, laying a small silver ring on the table. Eldynuil stared at it as the tension seeped from the room like water from a sieve. It was a seal ring, designed to seal letters with, and the initials on it were unmistakable. AA.
"No," he said, "But I think I know someone who might." Eldynuil grabbed the ring and ran out of the room, up the four flights of stairs, and into Isabelle's room. He shook her awake roughly, and before she had time to get her surroundings he shoved the ring in her face.
"Do you recognize this?" he asked, staring at her eyes for any flicker.
Isabelle blinked, twice, turning the ring over in her hands. Then she read the initials and synapses connected.
"Father's ring," she breathed, "where did you find it? I thought I'd lost it!"
Eldynuil stared at Isabelle's eyes for a few more seconds, then stood back up and walked out. He was about to walk away when he heard a slight shift behind him. He whirled around to see the short officer leaning against a corner, staring at him.
"Can I help you...?" Eldynuil asked.
"What did you ask her?" said the officer.
"She recognized the ring," said Eldynuil, "Andrew's."
"Ah," said the officer, who was trying his 'peel the paint off your soul' look again. "And the other matter...?"
Eldynuil drew a breath. "No," he said. The officer looked at him inquisitively.
"She wasn't there," said Eldynuil.
"She told you this?"
"You found the ring at the cave, yes?"
The officer nodded.
"Isabelle was genuinely surprised to see that ring. If she had been a part of that cult, don't you think she would know about objects like that disappearing?"
"We are not insinuating that Lady Allot is a member of the cult, sir," said the officer coolly. "We wonder, though, if she was there for some other purpose, perhaps. Will you ask her?"
"No!" said Eldynuil. "And who are you?"
The officer said nothing, but walked back along the hallway in silence. Eldynuil shut the door to Isabelle's room and leaned against it, thinking.

--------
Edaire was really pissed off. The SGC had ruined the whole thing. They hadn't even got to do the Ceremony of the Four Moons. Now he sat, not in a cell like the rest of his brethren, but in a small metal chair in a room with only one lightbulb. These sorts of rooms are built for specific purposes. The one door opened and a midget walked in. Not a midget, he corrected himself, a gnome. The gnome hopped onto the opposite chair and opened a file.
"Mister Edaire," said the gnome, flipping a page.
"I won't tell you anything, you pig!" said Edaire forcefully.
"Please," said the gnome ironically, "It's not as if there is anything we don't already know. We would appreciate it, though, if you would answer some questions. For instance, who is this?"
The gnome took out a picture of Isabelle Allot and laid it down on the table. Edaire picked it up and immediately dropped it back. He said something to the gnome. The gnome sighed a long, heavy sigh. He picked his papers.
"Thank you, Mister Edaire," he said, "that's all we needed to know."
The door closed silently.