The Lady Igraine is dead and Uther Pendragon sits alone in Camelot. In his youth, he earned his title through skill, bravery, and an unmatched fierceness in battle. But it has been a long time since he was young. A long time since he could wake in the morning without pain already weighing down his old bones until they feel heavier than lead. A long time for the matter of death to weigh on his mind.
In that time, the rumors have passed that he took his throne not merely through force of arms but through betrayal. The rumors have passed that Merlin aided him through Fae magic and cunning. The rumors have even passed that he conceived an illegitimate child, born when his wife Igraine was yet sworn to another, his greatest foe.
Now he is old, alone and pained. Yet he does not wish to die. The land too is old, and pained, and because its king clings to the world as he is, so too the land clings to its frailty and will not change or grow. Times that were bountiful under the protection of Uther’s reign are now worried times, where families wonder at the touch of the first frost whether they will live to hear the crackling ice that signals the spring thaw.
The druids and the priests who are about in the villages do what they can, where they can, and things are better where people remain loyal and true. But so long as there is rot at the heart of Camelot, there is no hope of change.
These words have been passed among the knights outside of Camelot of the goings on in the high kingdom of Britain and most especially Uther's domain of Logres.
It’s said that not so long ago a gallant young knight, who is called the Lily Knight, left her local manor near the forest Sauvage and took her squire, her horse, and her lance and set out for Camelot. There was to be a tournament there, for Uther Pendragon still holds tournaments and offers rewards for those who show skill enough for his court.
Yet, the knight said that she was waylaid on the road. Not by bandits, who would not dare such an assault on her staunch mail and the shining argent lily on gules that adorned her shield and proclaimed that she knew no fear. No, she was waylaid by druids in service to Uther who claimed that the tournament was canceled and the king was in need of valiant knights to search on his behalf for relics.
What they did not say was their purpose nor their need, merely that they served the king. They evaded her keen eyes and bowed and scraped in the road. They dissembled in their words and sought refuge in their roles and their quests. Surely a request from the servants of the king was not one to be questioned?
The Lily knight was troubled enough at their cold demeanor and evasive words that she departed and returned home to check on the safety of her villages. She found them whole and safe, for the most part. However, in her brief absence, strange beasts not natural to the wood troubled her people. Their fields had been ripped askew, their sheep slaughtered and the blood drunk dry. It was no small matter to track the beasts and drive them off, and she found the bodies unnatural as though animated by some dark spirit. She was yet more troubled at this, fearful that old things had been disturbed and the land angered.
Her people safe again, she now travels amongst the towns spreading word of the kings’ agents and encouraging the knights errant to see to the safety of their people before running off on reckless errands. Or worse.
“Did you hear, starlings? I’ve heard that...”
# King Pellie’s riding up and down the hills with her nets, chasing a creature like a swan-necked leopard and a bark like a hundred hounds! She’s half-mad after losing her wife, and even drew on the Lily Knight when she offered to help catch the beast! Does she think herself Gwyn the Huntress with her white-and-red dogs?
# The White Horse of the Downs has been wandering at nights, vast and strange against the stars, before lying itself back down on different hills come dawn. And the Giant of the Chalk spoke at Midsummer! It declared something about a beastly maid holding the fate of Britain in her hands...
# Speaking of summer, Estragales had one of the worst I’ve ever seen. The heather’s brown and brittle, the corn’s mouldering when it grows at all, and when it wasn’t dry as bone it was because black squalls were roaring in from sea. The worst part is that this is the third bad year in those parts, and some villages are turning to banditry just to get by. No, I take it back— the worst part is that all of Britain is following along. When was the last time you saw rain? Thought so.
# If you ride the Fens of Cornwall, cover your heraldry. Hereward the Wake has a special hatred for knights, and last I heard, that wily outlaw is holding Lady Lamorak and her arms to ransom! Whoever they really are, they wear a wolf pelt, and all the beasts of the field and birds of the air are on their side.
# The Thrush Knight, Lady Madelyn, is hurt bad. I visited her at the monastery in Bath, but she was incoherent in her fever, talking about rivers and dragons and doom. Just because the women of the rivers are making themselves scarce doesn’t mean there’s a troubling reason for it— they’re just following one of their odd laws, I’m sure. And how would a dragon catch river-spirits, anyhow?
# Be careful riding by Forest Sauvage — there’s a knight in black who roams there, challenging knights to jousts for service. I met Lady Abigail who told me all about her year and a day in bondage as a maid at the knight’s grim castle, deep within the woods— and how she worked alongside goblins and a Roman princess!
I’ve ridden the length and breadth of the kingdom. When I was young and my hair the tawny color of fresh wheat, I fought with King Uther in his vanguard. Let me tell you, the land has seen a lot of good from his peace, however he got it. If you ask me, we have Merlin to thank for much of that, a shame he’s missing now, so I’ve heard.
Times may be hard, but people haven’t forgotten that they were once harder. The difference between having a fire and a roof and being out in the cold is a real one, these old bones know it.
But I’ll tell you this, if I tell you anything. A roof without bread is a frail shelter indeed.
Think on that when you travel. Remember your humility and your knightly oaths. Remember that generosity, not force of arms will be your greatest strength. If you take your due and depart, you’ll be no better than bandits, and you’ll have nary a soul come to join your banner when Uther comes to find you.
He will at that, mark my words. Don’t think you can ride about sowing dissent with your theories that it’s his fault the wheat’s shriveled and the mead’s bitter. Best then, to show some nobility on your parts. Show the people that there’s a better choice for them than old King Uther and prove to them before you need them that they can rely on you to honor your oaths.
The holy city of Jerusalem is governed by many rituals and many laws. The pious pilgrim might find divine revelation in accordance with these rituals. The impious pilgrim, however, may find just the opposite...
Selzi Ikaros, the glorious Dragon Knight of Antioch, had been sent on pilgrimage by her devout mother in despair at her daughter's behaviour. Sent in the company of a retinue of priests, monks, and with the assistance of the most sober-minded of her companions Felii Instansi, this journey was sure to bring some measure of divine calm to the hot-headed warrior. But the mother underestimated. Selzi had the aspect of the boar to her - she desired to feast, to fight, and to revel. She was a mighty warrior with muscles like steel cables cables and without parallel in the jousting lists and she had no respect for these soft religious creatures that surrounded her like sheep.
As soon as she reached the holy city she prevailed over Felii and spirited her away from the procession. They instead went through the bars and back streets of the city like a whirlwind, Selzi corrupting the naive Felii with drink and vice, engaging in brawls and robberies and behaviour entirely unbecoming of two young knights. After many nights of hard drinking the two of them walked from the city, laughing and carrying each other. Selzi walked ahead, and then turned to face Felii to show off the goblet she had stolen from a church. Walking backwards, she stepped into the centre of a crossroads.
Walking backwards, away from Jerusalem, into a crossroads - this is one of the many ritual taboos that a more attentive soul would know to avoid.
It isn't clear who the woman they met there was - a djinn, perhaps, or a wizard, or even the devil herself. But she sat atop the lamp post and smiled at the drunk and tarnished knights and offered them wishes three. She had not even had time to raise the topic of the price before Sir Selzi interrupted her with the same thoughtless arrogance that governed her whole life.
"I wish," said Ser Selzi, as confidently as the horns of war, "for the strength of a hundred knights. I wish for the glory of a hundred kings. I wish for the wealth of a hundred lords."
And so she of the crossroads smiled and shrugged. She hang down from the burning lamp-post by her feet like a bat and plucked the icon of the dragon from Selzi's shield, and with a symphony of fire, the knight and the dragon were one. Roaring in fury and horror, the wyrm clawed at itself, causing scales to fall as rain before flying away into the night.
"And for your wish, little dove?" asked she of the crossroads with a smile like ice.
"Turn her back!" blurted Ser Felii, aghast at the terrible curse that had befallen her friend. "Release Selzi at once, I command you!"
"Ah," said she of the crossroads. "That will carry a heavy price indeed. She had three wishes, so you must do three tasks for me to undo them."
"Name them," said Ser Felii.
"Firstly, you must cleanse yourself in a cathedral not of Rome," said she of the crossroads. "Then you must hear a king weep and beg for mercy. Finally, you must walk through Ser Selzi's own fire without being burned. When these terms are met then I will return Ser Selzi Ikaros to human shape."
But, said she of the crossroads in her malicious mind, even then Ser Selzi will not be free of the price of her own wish.
It is said that there is an enchantress who keeps a place of power within a deep lake in the woods. Her name is Nimue, though it is not known how her name came to be whispered among the people. It is said that she possesses the true sword of the king. It is said that even if she will not grant her sword, she can be persuaded to grant her blessing, the sacred purity of the lake that is evil's bane. But she has not been seen by any knight still living. Those with wisdom say that her time has not yet come, and may never come if Uther Pendragon achieves the immortality that he seeks.
Below is a map of Britain at the start of Uther's reign. In this campaign, he is already old and his success has united most of these lands, but their unity is a loose federation of oaths and vassalage, and most people alive remember a time in their lifetime of greater independence.
Dancing gingerly here. Such careful mental gymnastics. At least Anathet was a little more prepared here, more focused than last time and now entirely focused on Tia.
[You mean the gods? Like Shamash? That's who I'm here to learn about, we need to find out about them, what they want for our world]
They met right where Anathet said they should. She'd been fifteen minutes early and staring about trying to look cool and not fretful, but doing a terrible job of it by constantly glancing around the market so she didn't miss the bouncer she was supposed to meet. She hadn't been on a date like, ever, and her dreams were a mix of childhood habits (hence the fretful looking about like a schoolgirl waiting to get picked up), old reading material, Zhianku romance (which involved some very risque aura mixing), and whatever her teenage mind had made up out of desperation. She still hadn't seen the bouncer, who she learned was Oumou until she was nearly on top of her. She'd almost jumped out of her robes at the sight.
[Tia, what do you...what do you think being friends means? Does it just mean keeping me safe no matter what? I know I'm small, but I want to do stuff too, not just stay hidden!]
She'd tried to settle herself in. Oumou was mysterious, but her aura didn't have any anger in it, or even much fear. Curiosity, some intrigue, some sense of trying to hold herself in check, but nothing risky. That had calmed Anathet down a lot, she had been worried she'd somehow blow it in the first ten seconds. Instead she'd said hi, tried to smile beneath her veil in that way that made her eyes sparkle. Unconsciously fixed her wide hat. After the greetings, Oumou had taken her by the hand! She had blushed so hard but tried not to say anything. She wasn't sure if Oumou just thought she was small and needed to be led, or if it was a romantic gesture, or something kind of chivalrous and protective in the market for a friend. She didn't really want to know, it was much better not knowing.
The belated sense of gratitude. [Thank you, for trying to protect me. That's important too, I really do appreciate it. Maybe, tell me how I can keep myself safe, how to stay hidden from the gods. Do they...um...are they like you? Like, where they get their powers? No, wait, you're related to the djinn, they're doing something different, right?]
The fried tofu was delicious. Anathet really liked that kind of fair, and getting to eat was the one time where you didn't have to worry too much about keeping everything around your face in perfect order. Food needed to be snuck beneath the veil, but the motion didn't have to be absolutely perfect, so that was something. The shop smelled good too, and the small wooden seats were firm and let Anathet's feet touch the floor. Oh, gods, had Oumou chosen it so Anathet could sit straight that way? No, no way, she had definitely picked it for the food, this was just a coincidence. Why was she blushing again?!
A-anyway, she'd asked Oumou about work, avoided the topic of family since she hadn't wanted to share about her own mom. Everybody knew not to ask too much about family since the invasion, there was always the risk someone had crossed the Annunaki the wrong way. They'd talked a little about food, Anathet had shared how the Zhianku learned about other cultures, watching her aura when she ate and adjusting for sweetness and spice. She'd noticed Oumou liked her tofu with chili and had added some more to her own to match.
[I need to hide my friends too. The others I was with in the library. And Oumou, she's a friend too, we just met. It's okay to have more than one friend, maybe you could meet them too? Marianne was...I think she wanted to meet you before, she seemed a bit disappointed when you left at the library.]
Oumou was just a friend, right? They'd parted ways with a little sort of handshake but handhold kind of thing. Nothing tender in public even in the lower city, it might get reported. But, why did Anathet keep picturing that low rumbling laugh as Oumou moved closer and closer to her. Why did she keep imagining a hand around her shoulders pulling her close, her robes brushing up against Oumou's utilitarian pants. Why couldn't she stop blushing?!
[I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'M SORRY!] Anathet all but shouts into her own mind space. She nearly shouts it out loud, just barely holding onto the need not to reveal herself in the Seneschal's palace. But sending her thoughts in the face of that Gorgon-esque onslaught is like trying to shout across a field in the middle of a hurricane.
She accompanies her apologies by crawling backwards as fast as she's able, back behind the pillar and then up another level, carefully, curling in on herself behind a statue of the Seneschal or some ancestor of his holding a book in one hand while his other, outstretched arm points at the horizon in an epic pose. It's really too much for highlighting a ring of bookshelves, but then again this is the central dome of the most powerful Annunaki in Babylon (save for gods of course).
[I'll be a good girl, I promise, I'll stay right here out of sight, far away, okay?] Her mind flashes back to those first memories she had inadvertently shared with Tia in a rush, her childhood embarrassments and fears bubbling up when her own self-confidence was waning. Maybe that's why Tia was being overprotective.
[...Who are They] she asks, after a moment, putting the same stress on it as Tia did. [Do you mean the Seneschal and his ministers? Or the god who's visiting or...someone else? Why can't I be brave until whoever they are is gone?]
Okay, I think I'm going to call this, since it's not really moving. If you all want to plan out a finale or epilogue, you have my blessing to do whatever you please. Tatterdemalion has expressed interest in it.
Deception was not really Anathet's strength, but she did want to listen. [Just let me get a little closer Tia. I'm not going to do anything, it would raise too much suspicion anyway. I just want to know what they're planning so I can tell my friends. Then I'll leave, okay?]
Anathet tries to start creeping closer so she can hear everything they're discussing and see the data tablets. She just needs to keep out of sight while going down a ring or so. It's evening, the lights aren't perfect, it really shouldn't be that hard if Tia just lets her move forward a bit more. If she can keep eyes on them, then once they leave, she can grab a copy of the data tablets (or follow wherever they're taken until somebody puts them down). That would be more than enough information to set up an operation against Shamash, or maybe to try for something else secure while everybody is distracted. Either way, these plans are worth well more than a tablet's weight in gold.
So, just, let her get a little closer, okay Tia? Everything will be fine.
Anathet teleports out of there and back to her bedroom where she had just left. She figured that blind teleports are risky, but that if she just happened to pop up somewhere that a servant or guest was standing that if she disappeared instantly, they would have a jump scare, but nobody would believe them. "Oh, look at the servant, seeing phantom thieves around every corner, we'd surely have heard if they were operating, Marianne always leaves a calling card!" So, seeing someone right in front of her face triggers her instant scuttle plan and she is out of there!
Her mind then catches up with who she actually saw, and she lets out a small exasperated sigh from the safety of her own home and teleports back, again. At least she knew the spot was safe now, since it had just been Tia and the conversation nearby hadn't remarked her on the first entry.
[Don't scare me like that!] She thinks at Tia (who hopefully either followed her through those teleports or is still there a few seconds later despite Anathet suddenly disappearing into the floor). Her thoughts are faster now, since Tia was talking in words after their last meeting, Anathet thinks in words instead of bigger images, though there's a bit of startled tiny dog falling over in her mental background. [What are you doing here? I'm trying to find out what the plans are for Shamash. Do you know where I should look?] Then a bit belatedly, Anathet realizes she's being a little rude and adds [It's good to see you, Tia].
The Seneschal's estate had been abuzz since the news of Shamash's arrival had come out. Even Anathet had heard about it, despite spending several days on extended gardening duty (technically, Anathet had not done anything wrong, having met her deadline to Auntie Rose and not having any fault found against her in the bar, but Auntie Rose had still assigned extra work to "build character"). It had not been hard to learn about it from every visitor. She was still an attraction for those who wanted a quiet walk and some ancient Zhianku wisdom (sometimes with invisible air quotes). Everyone who had come by was like "O.M.G. Shamash is coming!" They didn't say that exactly, but close enough as far as Anathet was concerned.
She'd been keeping her ears open for news, but it wasn't obviously forthcoming. Not surprising, people didn't come to her drunk and easily manipulated, so while it was easy to soothe their frazzled nerves and remind them to take calming breathes while she raked a rock garden, it wasn't particularly easy to pry their secrets out of them.
What she had gathered, though, was that the Seneschal was at the center of the matter. So, without waiting on Marianne and Canada (who were busy doing some weird psychic dream thing that gave Anathet the creeps) she decided during the evening to sneak into the Seneschal's estate as Set. She had been there several times and figured it wouldn't be difficult to bypass the outer guards and teleport inside. She knew some shadowed corners in the library shelves that would be hidden even if others were there. Then she could make her way through and find the Seneschal or his advisors. If she was really lucky, she'd find them in their cups and sharing information, but if not at least perusing their data tablets would yield the city's plans for Shamash's arrival and appropriate treatment during his stay.
The Tale of the Loyal Scribe By Anathet of the Zhianku
Dedication: For Auntie Rose, this story never would have existed without you
They say you meet love in unexpected places Doing your duty, living a vigorous life, Even serving, secret strife
Long ago a scribe loyal, brave, and quick-witted Serving on the chain Recording with care, always guarding the master's estate
A scribe and a spy silent slippers pass unseen A mind remembers, and a quill scratches secrets guarding the master's estate
Summer night, warm glow betrayal by candlelight! Loyal scribe observes the lord's poison soon prepared One ingredient 'til done
Abrupt departure seeking the poison by night The scribe but follows silent shadow on the trail descent to the lower wards
The poisoner, her auburn hair dancing firelight brighter than the sun! Scribe took in a quiet breath Time stopped, so too did her heart
Rash action, scattering Scribe stumbles upon the scene Perhaps an accident, unknown, but no more unseen What words passed such lonely lips?
A secret affair nights and still more summer nights Meetings without time betrayal newly joined or, a clever trick to delay?
One day, new door guard leaving scribe remarked and seen A scribe, quick of wit knowing that time has ended Rushes to her beloved
A poisoner's choice abandon the art of death Choose to love instead Travel with her lovely scribe Seek a new life, together
Quill scratches out words The plot all revealed, laid bare Poisoner and scribe Loyal first to the master Safety of the highest high
Then the two lovers departed, their duty done New lives still to seek They slipped into the market Silence carried them away
All praise loyal scribe! whose service was dutiful All praise the lovers! who sought out their peace and joy All found their place on the chain!
Author's notes -The play may be performed by one person both reciting the lines and demonstrating various roles by use of masks. When departing as the lovers, two masks should be held together, neither entirely touching the face. -The play may also be performed by two actors, alternating recitation, or by two actors and one independent reciter. -Suggested musical accompaniment, if desired, is a wood block drum and a two or three-stringed shamisen
The final three verses should be read ironically. The scribe has not chosen the master, but rather used her role to mislead him, leading to his ultimate downfall. Done properly, the lovers depart with the group of resistance members plotting the tyrant's overthrow.
The guards on the march home were no problem. Anathet knew that being part of the Seneschal's estate was a complete get out of jail free card. But that meant you were invoking the Seneschal's influence, and in turn the influence of people like Auntie Rose. That was dangerous because that influence was a limited thing. Embarrass the estate and its servants too often and they would find a way to make sure you were no longer in a position to embarrass them.
So, on the walk back, Anathet had been the model of behavior. Quiet and reserved, shuffling along with her careful monk's step with the guards, apologizing slowly and calmly for any inconvenience she was causing them, and assuring them that she had meant neither harm nor offense. They probably didn't care, but there was a saying among the Zhianku (yes they actually had sayings, it wasn't all an act) that rage was like fire with quick fuel. Well, that was the best translation, it was prettier in the original, with its implied imagery of a tiny flame crackling in a faraway forest, catching a bit of dry brush, flaring up, and then disappearing as quickly as it rose when it found nothing else to burn. So with Auntie Rose. If she was angry about one thing, it could be fleeting. Give her cause to rant and instead her rage would become a wildfire.
Anathet bows her head before Auntie Rose and waits several seconds when she stops speaking. That too is an act of deference, implicitly assuring Auntie Rose that Anathet will not interrupt until she is certain that Auntie Rose has no more words to add. A small sigh does escape her lips though, her control is not nearly so good and she is tired and her whole face hurts.
"I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to serve the Seneschal" Anathet begins, not taking the bait of implying that her personal pleasure is relevant to whether she should be allowed to serve. "Please accept my humblest apologies, Auntie." She bows formally. "I was there to buy ice cream, an Earth delicacy that I had heard was available at that location from the other servants. I was having difficulty finding inspiration for my writing and I thought that a break and special food would lead me to such inspiration. I realize this reason does not excuse my foolishness, but I wish to inform you that despite my rough treatment, I believe the errand was successful." Here she dares to look up and there is just the slightest twinkle in the shadow of her eyes. "If I am allowed to write for the remainder of the evening, I believe I could have a completed manuscript prepared for you well ahead of the deadline."
The Annunaki don't really have protocols for handling the Zhianku, honestly, at least not the regular troops. There aren't that many Zhianku, most of them aren't particularly close to Annunaki-held space, and unless they're trying to recruit someone, they wouldn't be hostile anyway. Maybe some of the specialists know some things about dealing with Zhianku, but not the regular guards. What the guard here probably means is either a) he's been watching way too many Annunaki dramas and thinks based on Anathet's garb that she's some kind of magical wizard monk (ignore that he's right!) and thinks he's being cool just like in the holovids. b) There's some group that dresses like Anathet (maybe Zhianku imitators?) among the humans and other servant groups and the guards have a protocol for dealing with them.
Either way, Anathet is going through an emotional rollercoaster. The bouncer accepted! Woo! The bouncer had no idea what was about to happen! Oh no (much sadness). Anathet starting this fight was going to get the bar in trouble, maybe. Extreme sadness, and maybe the cute bouncer would end up hating her. Oh no! These guards were idiots and they were paying her extra attention! Extremely oh crap!
"No protocols, I surrender!" Anathet shouts hastily, staying on the floor and trying to put her hands up. "I belong to the Seneschal of Marduk, so uh, maybe you could just...um, take me home?" She tries to give her most innocent possible look to the janissary from under her veil. It's something like wide-eyed doe, but less about to be hit and more could I lie to you?
Inside, she's seething. Ugh, was that stupid? Should she have kept her mouth shut? She was worried they were going to beat her up or something though, so maybe telling them she belongs to the Seneschal would help. But then did she freak everyone else out? And would they even believe her?
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