Chapter 8 Rumors Fly #2
It is with great excitement that His Majesty, the High King Magnus Ragnaroth, our Shield Against Darkness, announces the sixteenth year since the birth of His Son and Heir, Prince Tristan Ragnaroth, the First of His Name.
In his Honor, your High King welcomes your presence at the First Annual Royal Tournament of Champions to be hosted at King’s Crossing beginning on the eve of Summer Solstice.
Events to include jousts, melee, archery, and more…
Beyond the call for competitors, it invited anyone seeking work to arrive on the eve of the tournament to be assigned a job, and for vendors and craftsmen to bring their finest wares and goods, with setup for the vendors’ market beginning two days prior and no sooner.
But Hazel couldn’t get past the idea of this being hosted on Summer Solstice, a holiday when the veil between this realm and the Otherrealm is said to be thinner.
One that might draw out witches and other magical folk who dared to continue their practice.
Coinciding with a celebration guaranteed to bring the King and his men in direct contact with them… It was too intentional for her liking.
“Ah, you’ve seen the posting, I see?” Connall, despite his size, had somehow snuck up on her. She jumped at the broken silence but was relieved it was just her father.
“Young fella stopped by just a little while ago and added that lovely thing right on top of all the others. You just missed him.” She still held the parchment in her hands and glanced down at it, eyes scanning the words once more.
“I know what you’re thinking. And while I’m not nearly as superstitious as you, I don’t like it either. The way it’s worded makes me think we won’t have a choice, and shutting down the inn for more than a day or two… well, it’s going to hurt us.”
She hadn’t even considered it, her concern lying with the timing itself. “Surely they can’t expect business owners to close up shop for a glorified birthday party?”
Connall raised an eyebrow as if to say, you know better.
“Pa, this isn’t fair. And since when are we calling Magnus the Shield Against Darkness? What in the gods was that all about?”
Connall chuckled. “I can’t answer that. I suppose he fancies himself savior of the realm, what with banishing everything he disagrees with and calling it “darkness”.
Ah, well. At least we have a little time to prepare.
I will ask around and if needed, I will have someone pen a letter to the King’s handlers for me and see if we can’t figure it out.
” He eyed her knowingly, because they both knew she would be the one to write it.
As the overworked son of a farmhand, Connall hadn’t received much of an education. Life plucked him from one field and dropped him straight into another: the battlefield.
“Don’t worry, love. Everything will work out.”
Everyone was so gods-damned positive but her, which reminded her why she had raced over to catch up with her father.
“Pa, there’s something else. I was hoping to talk to you before you made it into town, but…” her voice faded when she looked into his blue eyes, where she found but fatherly love. Not an ounce of concern.
“Yes, love, I know. I’ve already heard.” He was calm; his face revealed nothing.
“You have?”
“Of course. And I’ve talked to a few folks who had concerns, snuffed out a few rumors—I think. We’ll just have to wait and see what the coming days bring.”
“Has there been any word?”
He sighed, shaking his head. “None. But now that you’re here, I wonder if I might step away for a little while, see if I can’t find that drunk bastard myself.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Hazel rubbed her arms nervously.
“Why not? Hazel, dear, it’s not like I’m going to kill the man. And besides, if I did, then I’d just be confirming those rumors, eh?” Joking. Her father was making jokes about this whole ordeal.
And, as always, he was right. Regardless of the outcome, at least no one could say he didn’t try. “Sure,” she said. “I can handle things here.”
“That’s my girl!” He grabbed the parchment from her hands. “We will worry about this later,” he said, bopping her on the forehead with the parchment lovingly. “For now, let’s just stay focused, eh? We’re running low on a few things in the kitchen. Mind running to the market?”
Though she loved the marketplace, the thought of being surrounded by more people made her want to crawl into a hole.
But she wouldn’t complain. “Sure thing, Pa. No problem. By the way,” she added, fetching the sachets of tea leaves and herbs from her bag, “I stopped by to see Agnes this morning. Got the stuff you needed, and she sent me back with extra herbs.” She thought about what happened after her visit, but it was a topic she wasn’t ready to discuss.
“I knew I could count on you.” He smiled, taking the sachets from her and sending her away with a nod before turning back to press the parchment back onto the signpost by creating a new hole.
After stepping back and rubbing his hands together in satisfaction, Connall Callahan grabbed his handaxe from its usual hiding place and strode off in the direction Jonas Gray had last stumbled off in.