Worries of the Moss
The forest itself seemed an enemy to Duncan. Once, he had prided himself in his ability to move through the trees and heavy brush. But this guy was better. Every time Duncan got a glimpse of the rebel commander, he slipped away in what seemed like a completely different direction.
The Gwylvos Forest was one of the most impassable places in Eternia. Even what many considered to be the primitive tribes that inhabited most of Eternia's other forest seemed to stay away from Gwylvos. Duncan thought that the forest did seem to be more than usually set against intruders. Although he was mostly protected by his guardsman's body suit, the branches seemed to find a way to poke and slap at the exposed face just under his helmet.
Blue in the green. Another glimpse of his prey. At least his enemy's armor was in no way camouflaged. The rebel's dark blue armor wouldn't help him until nightfall, and this pursuit simply couldn't last that long.
Then Duncan smelled smoke. He knelt and turned. Behind him the forest was going up in flames, no doubt the result of the battle that had all but ended and would end if Duncan could capture the instigator of the whole thing. Duncan reached up to wipe away the tears from his watering eyes; the smoke was getting thicker—it would make finding his charge all the more difficult.
Then Duncan was on his back inside some kind of bush. Kronos, the rebel commander, had gone on the offensive. Duncan knew he was dead. On his back, his weapon fallen from his hand, Kronos would deliver the fatal blow before Duncan knew it was coming.
Only, the bush that Duncan had fallen against was a soma-shrub. To prevent animals from using it as a home, it emitted a gas when touched that dropped most mammals into a deep slumber. Duncan could feel the sleep overcoming him, but imagined that it was Kronos' doing, not some plant. From the distance, as if in a dream, he could hear Kronos coughing, but couldn't seem to make any connection to the fact. Was he home? How was he home? Duncan lurched away from the bush, believing he was actually pushing himself out of bed. He staggered, then dropped to the ground at Kronos' feet.
Kronos sneered, saying something to Duncan in a language he didn't understand, but the meaning was clear, "You're mine now." Duncan tried to push himself up. Kronos must have taken much less of the poison; the guardsman didn't have a chance. Truthfully, he doubted his chances against Kronos in a fair fight—this would be a massacre. Kronos watched Duncan push himself up until he was almost to his knees, then gave his pursuer a swift kick that put him gasping back on the floor.
From the ground, Duncan saw that someone else was there with him. No, it was just a tree. The tree was moving. Was that normal? Did it have feet? It seemed that Kronos saw it too. Kronos turned to face the tree. The bush? Duncan heard his enemy gasp in surprise—say something—he didn't know what. He tried to focus. Kronos had a blade in hand, feinted left, and then plunged it into the left breast of the creature. The thing—a man/plant—seemed to have no reaction. The sword sunk in to the hilt, but the creature didn't move or even acknowledge that he had felt the blow.
Kronos tried to pull the sword free. It wouldn't budge. He punched at the thing. He kicked. Nothing. Finally, Kronos turned to run. Duncan saw the plant had arms with hands—hands that gripped a heavy branch, or was that its arm? arms that lifted once and came down once against the side of Kronos head, dropping him to the ground where he lay like deadwood. Duncan wondered for a moment if Kronos was dead, but he saw that the rebel still breathed.
The thing over him took a step forwards. It spoke, a voice unexpectedly soft and slow. "Gwylvos and everything in it. It has my protection. I help you today. Your men put out the fires they helped to start." Duncan couldn't imagine that his men had purposefully set fire to the forest, but he didn't have the words to argue with the being that had felled Kronos in one blow and was still ignoring a sword impaled through its chest. "Man has overrun the rest of the world. This forest is off limits. Carry that message with you. Understand. It is not a command. It is wisdom."
Duncan could not recall the march out of the forest with Kronos bound and over his shoulder, but somehow, he was on the forest edge and turning the prisoner over to his fellow guardsmen. Kronos forces retreated and later disbanded into smaller factions of bandits. The Eternians put the fire out.
Kronos had his trial. He would spend the rest of his life surrounded by illusions in a world designed for him far below the Eternian Palace. There were citizens who found the punishment far too lenient, but those who had lived the hollow illusory life, with its imperfect sensation, often testified that death might be preferable. There, surrounded by illusions, there was no way to end your life. The system would just reboot. And while the illusions were not cruel, they were programmed to act like real people. Any violence or criminal behavior towards those people would reboot the system again. It was designed to force the sentenced prisoner to live a normal life as a contributing citizen or start from scratch over and over and over.
On the day Kronos was to be moved, King Miro honored Duncan, making him second in command of the palace guard. His victory against Kronos had been accomplished before the warlord could consolidate his forces. Miro didn't like to think about what would have happened if Duncan had failed. King Miro noted that his son Randor was there, also working in the guard to gain the respect he would need to rule. Unfortunately, his other, more academic son had gone missing. Keldor. Everyone had whispered about the unfortunate tryst Miro had with a Gar woman on a campaign nearly two decades ago. He had not been ashamed. Love was not something you could explain to another. And yet, Keldor had heard the whispers himself. Miro believed that the cruelty of those around him had forced Keldor to become socially withdrawn, pursuing power over men and women alike. He had hoped Keldor would find love, but instead, he was often found buying its shadow in brothels. He tried to argue with his son, but Keldor was clever. He could convince himself of anything and would not be dissuaded once he was. Though older than Randor, it was Keldor's cynicism and love of power that would keep him from the throne, not his race.
Duncan's new rank was placed on his shoulder. Miro observed that he had a way of carrying himself that made him look always respectful and appreciative, but never proud. There were few soldiers like him. Miro could see a future in which Duncan would be the new Man-at-Arms and Randor's closest ally in a world on the verge of peace. Where then, would that leave Keldor?
The King reached out and shook the guardsman's hand.
In the hallways below, a bound and blinded Kronos was guided through palace halls to a room the royal court had ordered he would never leave. The two guardsmen on each side were unprepared for the mass of red and orange fur that ripped into them, leaving armor and flesh equally shredded. The prisoner smelled a musty, unclean animal stench. He felt warm breath suddenly against his face. There was another slash of claw. Kronos was free.
The orange monster called Beast Man carried a humiliated Kronos into a dark room he at first thought might be only another dungeon. Which one of his enemies had him now? It was a challenge to retain his balance when Beast Man dropped him unceremoniously to his feet.
While Beast Man went to the corner, breathing heavily, Kronos watched two cloaked figures that had no doubt sent the thing to free him. Both hidden, it was still clear that one was a tall, lithe man, and the curves on the other could only belong to a woman. Kronos also scanned the room for weapons that weren't there—nothing but a torch on the far wall that revealed his face but left his captors in shadows. Surprisingly, the cloaked man threw back his cloth, giving away the advantage of anonymity and revealing the light blue skin of what was probably a half-Gar, one of Kronos' own people. Was he a follower that Kronos didn't remember? He did not carry himself as a follower.
The man pushed stray hairs off his shoulder to join the long black hair that cascaded down his back. "Welcome, Kronos. I am Keldor, Prince and rightful heir to the Eternian throne. You are here to accept the position of my newest general."
Kronos considered not answering at all. Was this man really the prince, or some delusional noble with too much money and not enough sense? Whatever he was, he had the upper hand here. He had no way of besting the monster this Keldor had sent to free him. He admitted as much. "It seems you have the upper-hand in this case, Prince Keldor."
"You will come to find that I always have the upper-hand, General Kronos. With your armies gathered to my own considerable forces and royal access, I will rule not just this kingdom, but every land under the sky."
The woman to Keldor's right seemed to suddenly tense. There were plenty of mysteries to be found under that cloak, he gathered. He asked, "Besides the rescue, of which I'm grateful, what do I get for the service?"
Keldor put a hand on his shoulder, leaning forward. He could see the man's face now, sinister and calculating, and was surprised to feel unnerved by the man's closeness. "There will be power to go around, Kronos. Power to go around."
Kreann'ot n'Horosh, the creature that legend called Moss Man, could feel the change in the soil and the air and the water. It was subtle and small. Energy had been taken, but not returned. This was nature's greatest crime, a blasphemy against the living world. All energy taken from the world must be returned. Those that ate the food of the earth would replenish its soils with their own bodies. Though Moss Man was one of the few who could see clearly the interplay between virus, bacteria, plant, and beast, its reality could be felt all over the universe and in every dimension.
Now, there was a disturbance. And the origin of that disturbance was clear. Long ago, Moss Man had aided King Grayskull in order to punish the greatest destroyer the world had ever seen: Hordak. Hordak had left nearly lifeless whole countries. His plan to drain all Eternia of its power and use it to conquer the universe and its dimensions had been an abomination. Moss Man had abstained from the affairs of humans since. That is, until several years ago, when their armies had intruded on him. There was some hope in the fact that the man Moss Man had saved had kept his promise not to return.
Was it happening again? It felt similar. Whatever was the cause, it could not be mere coincidence that it emanated from Castle Grayskull, his friend's former home and resting place.
So, for the first time since that great battle against the ruthless leader of the horde, Moss Man left his forest home.
King Miro sat on his throne wearing the ancient Eternian armor he had worn in some form every day for more than twenty years. The Eternian throne sat on a dais that raised the throne just high enough to meet his tallest supplicant in the eye. To his left, Duncan, representing the guard and the local Clamp Champ. It had been years since Duncan had earned his place as second to the Man-at-Arms. He had served well. To his right, Randor, his second son and likely heir to the throne. It was good to see that the two of them had become friends, raising their children together.
That was all. This was to be a closed session of court.
Before them was his oldest son, the illegitimate result of true love with a woman who would not leave her home. Miro still thought about her often. Their son Keldor was sneaky, conniving, even cruel. But he was smart and willful and Miro still loved him. Even now.
King Miro began, "Keldor, you have been at the heart of investigations on drugs, murder, and outright treason so many times that it becomes foolhardy for us not to believe there be some truth in the myriad allegations. Some truth. But what? You're here today to answer that question."
Keldor wore the traditional breastplate of a Gar. Many felt it was an open insult to King Miro, but Miro thought he understood the boy's need to connect to a heritage he had no other way of knowing. He wore a long, dark cloak that didn't quite touch the floor. He held his shoulders and back too straight for that. A posture of defiance? Or simply pride? Keldor opened his arms, palms upward. "There are many who would wish to see me gone or even dead, Father. If I had done even half of what they say I've done, surely there would be evidence to that affect."
Miro looked over his shoulder. Duncan began, "The same creature that helped to free the murderer Mer-Man also helped to free Kronos two years ago. Both were snuck from the city in ways even I don't quite understand. The creature most likely responsible is a beast man from the berserker islands or the Sahar'iah jungles, an unusually vicious one." Keldor said nothing. "Prince Keldor, your study of the beast men is well known. You spent an entire year in their jungles."
Keldor waved a hand in Duncan's direction. "Circumstantial, at best."
"Agreed. But then there is the disappearance of the assassin Karak Nul, a man who escaped using papers bearing a royal seal."
"I've already been through this with the Clamp Champ, Captain. The royal seals must have been a forgery. I was not even in possession of mine at the time."
Duncan interrupted, "A whole other problem, I might add." Keldor did not respond. "And then there is the matter of mushroom dust smuggled into the city. The drugs were found in a shipment full of your own acquisitions."
"None of my personal property ever arrived." Keldor began fingering his belt, where a dangerous sword usually rested. "Clearly my purchases were swapped illegally. Again, we've been through this. If you have no new evidence, I would like to be dismissed." Keldor met Randor's eyes, but Randor looked away. The younger brother was nervous around Keldor. Keldor had bested him too many times at too many games. Embarrassed him. In any other situation, against any other man, Randor could have held his ground, but Keldor's stare had him searching for an exit.
Miro raised his hand before Duncan could continue speaking. "There are new allegations, my son. You have been seen, by enough witnesses for me to believe it, with a woman wanted on charges of murder. A woman calling herself Evilyn. She is wanted for the murder of a shopkeeper who dealt with simple magics. Certain items from his store appear to have gone missing. Do you know the woman of whom I speak?"
Keldor paused. If they had the evidence they said they had, denial could be damning. He sneered, "I know the woman."
The King continued, surprised by his son's honesty. "And you know of her activities?"
"Of course not. She is just a woman I meant. I did what I wanted with her."
"And what did she get from you?" Duncan interjected.
Keldor smiled again. This was too easy. "She got to spend the night with a prince."
They were quiet. They had nothing on him. This was nothing but a test—a test he had passed. He would be allowed to go back to his room. To continue with his little projects. Most of which involved making himself King over Randor, even if that meant killing his brother.
His father took a deep breath. "You have three days to gather your things, Keldor. You are going to Andreenid. You will learn to be an ambassador for the kingdom. Perhaps even choose a wife. There is no reason you should live a lonely life just because…" There was a long pause. Even the King did not want to hear the sentence finished.
"Because I am a Gar, father." No answer. "Is this your final decision? Are you sure you want to do this?" The King only nodded. "So be it."
Castle Grayskull was old to the world, old to Moss Man, and yet not old at the same time. Even though he had taken a part in its construction, Moss Man recognized the place as far older than him or even Eternia. It was a monument of stone that looked like the giant skull of a god, which might be an accurate description, Moss Man thought. He approached the castle along its bridge, walking steadily in the same loping pace that had brought him here. He had no need to rest, and no need for food and water the way humans thought of it.
The spirits in the castle stirred at his approach. The jaw-bridge opened before he bid it. And there was the current Sorceress, resplendent in her ancient garment. She was a young one, even by human standards. "Welcome, Kreann'ot n'Horosh," she said, bowing slightly. His true name. Perhaps this Sorceress wasn't the novice he thought she was.
Informed or not, the Sorceress was surprised by the rich sound of Moss Man's voice, a voice that carried with it the perpetual smell of new spring. "I am welcome all over Eternia. The forest and the rivers know me. The mountains and the plains know me. Even from the frozen tundra and burning desert whisper my true name: Kreann'ot n'Horosh! Kreann'ot n'Horosh! Kreann'ot n'Horosh!
"All these places know me but this one that I helped to raise. It does not whisper Moss Man's name. It does not vibrate with the world. Yet it is here I come seeking the answers only here can hold. Sorceress, the trees and the wind and the ant have told me of the hunger that feeds but does not give. What is this hunger and how can it be stopped? At risk are all the places that know Moss Man. I would save them."
"Please, Moss Man. You are as pure a being that ever walked. I invite you into Castle Grayskull. Let me serve you this once as you serve the world." The Sorceress gestured. Moss Man understood her anxiety: jaw-bridge open, she exposed. But he did not move.
"I built the castle's walls from the outside, and from the outside, Moss Man will stay. Inside, there is no place for Moss Man."
The Sorceress simply nodded, folding her arms, but he could sense her gathering her power. Was she preparing to defend herself against him or against some foe laying in wait on the bed of her paranoia? She spoke, "If you will not enter, why come this far, Moss Man?"
"Answers. This place has changed. I can sense it standing here. The hunger that only feeds."
The Sorceress lowered her eyes. "Moss Man, it is my greatest shame. The cosmic enforcers have sealed Eternia. Castle Grayskull will draw on the planet's energy until the planet is no more. I am sworn to protect its ancient secret, but I worry that its existence now does more harm than good. Every time its power is tapped, the end comes closer."
Moss Man did not move. For a long time, the Sorceress thought he would not respond at all. Then, his voice still even and slow, "Finally, the full madness of Hordak is realized. Should then, this place be razed. Can it be razed and would that help?"
The Sorceress held up her hand, an open palm. "I ask myself this question every day, for its continued existence means death to the planet itself. Where once the castle drew on dimensional energies, it now has been sealed against them."
"I took part in this project so that Castle Grayskull, standing on this dimensional vortex could be used to hold the world together after Hordak sundered it. Now the cure is the cancer."
"All is not lost, Moss Man. Prophecy tells that the castle's power will fall to a champion who will unite the world again." The Sorceress gestured into the air, revealing the faces of a line of Kings.
Moss Man saw only despair. "He will use the power, hastening Eternia's end, though his cause at first seem just."
"Maybe. That is a warning in the prophecy. But the Spirit of Grayskull is clear. This champion, He-Man, is Eternia's only hope. An evil is coming. Without the Elders' power, Eternia will once again be at the mercy of Hordak's mad vision." The image of kings changed. In its place, a skull, clearly alive and possessed with the type of unnatural power Moss Man had hoped vanished with Hordak. Even King Hiss, ruler of the snake men, had not been so dangerous. Hiss would have ruled Eternia, but not destroyed it.
Again, the Sorceress thought Moss Man would not respond. She studied his body. He appeared to be little more than a walking plant. Could that be true? She had not had much time to prepare for his arrival. Then he spoke, "I trust that the spirit of King Grayskull would never lie to me. I'd like to believe that we were once friends as I have never called another man friend. It seems to me that for the world to begin healing, we both have tasks." Moss Man raised both arms to his chest as he spoke. "You will seek to undo what the cosmic enforcer has done. I will aid against this mighty evil your visions have conjured." With that, Moss Man turned to go.
"Wait, Moss Man! There is another face I would show you. A man somehow connected to it all. He will be the great guardian to both Castle Grayskull's secrets and its champion. I have met him once." Moss Man saw a vision of the guardsman he had saved months ago.
"I know this man already. Truly his destiny must be great. I will find him." The Sorceress watched Moss Man go, his stride slow but sure, and wondered if that feeling tingling deep inside her was hope. It had been a long time.
Keldor's rooms were rich even by royal standards. He had an eye for things that were rare and unattainable—especially for those things that were unattainable. Jewelry hidden away in ornate boxes. Pelts and magically imbued weapons hanging from the wall. Tapestries that were older than the city, preserved using a means no one understood anymore. And wine. Keldor loved the wines of the giants, a rare race no longer known to have anything to do with agriculture. Today, none of this gave him any pleasure. He sat at a large circular table carved with figures from a religion no one remembered, holding an empty goblet that a man had died to find him.
"Insects! I am the prince of the realm, and they dare to exile me to study with insects!" Surrounding Keldor were the loyal henchmen he had been gathering to serve as the enforcers of his new world order: the savage Beast Man, a ruthless monster; the ocean warlord Mer-Man, who could control many of the water's creatures; and Kronos, commander of the only force to have had a chance at standing against King Miro.
Kronos was the first to speak. "What will happen to us if you get sent to Andreenid?"
Keldor absently grabbed the end of his thin mustache. "I will not be going to Andreenid. We step up the attack. We assassinate the King tonight and take power while Eternia sleeps." Only Beast Man nodded, breathing heavily. The others stood stiffly. "I take your silence to mean obedience." He stood. "I found each of you. Without me, you would be in prison or outcast for the rest of your lives. Here! Now! I am giving you the opportunity, not just for revenge, but to rule! To rule forever. For your sons and daughters to rule! Power! Power for all time. Stand with me now," he paused, grinding his teeth, "or I will hunt you down until my last breath." He stood before Kronos. He knew Kronos often thought that he was the more qualified to lead. But there was no reaction in his general.
"Good." Keldor slung his broadsword. "Mer-Man, you will make sure that no ships leave port tonight. Let them come, but those that go must have accidents of a most final kind. Kronos, you will find Evilyn and her swordsman. Tell her it is time to take down Man-at-Arms. She will do it. Work with her until you feel the guard is crippled and ready for your leadership. Beast Man, you are with me. We will find my father resting, I believe. It will be a short night for him, I'm afraid."
Kronos grabbed his cloak and went to the door. Had he finished dressing, he would have been nearly unrecognizable by anyone not looking. Instead, he threw open the door, his thoughts running through all of the flaws in Keldor's plan. He stood face to face, uncovered, with Randor.
Randor did not like Keldor, but he did love him. He knew that Keldor's childhood had not been easy. Called bastard, an outcast because of his race. Constantly under suspicion, and now, to be exiled to Andreenid… Randor wanted Keldor to know that when he was King, he would welcome Keldor back to court as a trusted advisor.
But here was Kronos, exiting Keldor's quarters—all the evidence Duncan needed to put Keldor in the prisons for treason.
Randor was a good warrior, but he was not as seasoned as Kronos. The Gar renegade slammed the prince with a shoulder, knocking him against the opposite wall. A sword appeared in his hand, stabbing down at Randor's throat.
Then Keldor was there. "No!" he screamed.
"You said you were going to kill him. You can't back down."
Randor looked up at his brother, hope returning. "Yes," Keldor smiled. "I said I was going to kill him." He drew his sword slowly, relishing the sound of it sliding along the scabbard.
Randor did not wait. He thrust out both feet, barely catching the two, but giving him enough space to roll to his knees. Keldor's sword lashed out, striking Randor in the arm and leaving it weak and useless. Kronos pulled a gun. "A blaster will alert the guard," Keldor cautioned. "I don't want that yet." He looked over his shoulder. "Beast Man, gut him." Beast Man launched himself down the hall at the prince who had only just turned the corner.
Randor opened a door and slammed it behind him. He could hear the hideous growling of the monster, seemingly just over his shoulder. With a wounded arm, how could he hope to fight off the mass of rage set loose against him? He took four steps before the door behind him shattered. Beast Man was here. Beast Man stopped for a moment to sniff the fear, drool dripping between rows of sharp teeth. With long limbs, he launched himself again.
Randor had not stopped, and ahead of him were two guardsmen, weapons drawn. Did they have a chance against the thing? Beast Man hurdled over Randor's head, launching himself at the armed guards—the bigger threat. While one claw ripped into the face of the first, the other managed to slice Beast Man's chest with a sharp short sword. Beast Man backhanded his attacker, sending him hurling into the opposite wall. He bent down, his jaw ripping at flesh, his fur now covered in fresh blood.
Randor struck a deep wound in Beast Man's side. Meanwhile, the guard Beast Man had thrown, dizzy but conscious, had drawn a blaster and fired into Beast Man's shoulder. Howling, the monster retreated back down the hallway he had come.
Keldor entered his father's chambers, sword drawn. He would not kill the man in his sleep. He wanted his father awake, staring into his son's eyes when life left him.
He was not to be disappointed. Miro sat on the edge of the bed, watching him come. "You killed my guards?" Keldor only smiled. "You wish to be King? No one will follow you. You will be hunted to the ends of Eternia." This time, his Gar son shrugged. Miro pulled out a blaster.
"Father, surely you won't begrudge your son a classic sword to sword battle to the death? No cheating now."
Miro held the blaster steady. "I will shoot you, son. For Eternia, I will shoot you."
Keldor feigned a lunge forward. Miro fired even as Keldor spun and dove, releasing with his left hand a vial containing a toxic gas that would kill a man in seconds. Miro was covered by the poisonous gas, gasping for air. Keldor stepped back, surveying his work, and then bowed. King Miro dropped his sword, his body twitching reflexively. "Your majesty," Keldor said.
He turned to leave and met Randor at the door, sword drawn. "You wanted a fight, Keldor?" his brother demanded.
Keldor's lips pulled back, revealing two sharp Gar fangs. "Very well, wounded brother. I will fight you." He closed the ground, beginning to worry that there would soon be too many guards to overcome. He had to hurry. Randor was patient. With the use of only one arm, he knew he had to hold Keldor, not defeat him. Again and again Keldor attacked, each thrust deflected—each swipe avoided. "You are a better swordsman than I," Keldor admitted. Randor did not answer, understanding that the words were meant to distract him. They heard a cough behind them. "Oh, look," Keldor announced. "Daddy's dead." Hot anger boiled over. Randor struck out, and Keldor won, delivering a long slice across Randor's knee. Remarkably, his leg was not severed, but he did fall.
Standing over him, Keldor spoke, "And now, my brother, I will be King."
Randor swiped upwards. Keldor stepped back. With his wounded arm, Randor connected with Keldor's chin.
Hardly wounded, merely stunned, Keldor raised his weapon again. There was Randor, ripe for death, but surrounded by guardsmen. Keldor pulled another vial from his belt. This, his most expensive possession. He poured its contents, a simple yellow sand, on to the ground in front of him and stepped onto the fine grains. He was gone.
The guardsmen pulled Randor to his feet. "Alarm!" the prince screamed.
Evilyn was waiting for Keldor when he appeared in the arcane floor diagram. She wore a sculpted helmet to cover the white hair that immediately marked her as a foreigner. She was covered in jewelry that might have tempted thieves, but her sharp eyes and the easy way in which she wore her dagger dissuaded most. For those that weren't dissuaded, they were often surprised that her dagger was not what they should have feared. Keldor did not appreciate her arrogant grinning. "The King is dead. Now I am the rightful King," he said.
"Not quite the exit of a King," she reminded him. "Still, all is not lost. I have arranged for transport out of the city," she said, her voice soft, even seductive.
"We will not be leaving. Now is the time," he roared. "Where is your swordsman? I told Kronos to have you to strike at the guards. He was to kill Man-at-Arms."
Evilyn shrugged. "I have used all of my manpower to get us away from the city. Tri-Klops, Kronos, and Mer-Man have cleared the way. Staying here gains us nothing. The city is broken. We will regroup with Kronos' men and strike Randor, Man-at-Arms, and the Council of Elders all at once."
Keldor considered the idea. It would be hard to get at his brother now. Everyone would be scattered, looking for them. He conceded. "Escape was my plan all along. I just wanted the guardsmen's position to be even worse." He sheathed his blades. "Get us out of here." He followed her from the tent and away from the city.
Outside, Moss Man found the Eternal Palace in complete disarray. The King was dead, and they hurried the prince to the Council of Elders for his coronation before rebellion became even more widespread. Was it here that Moss Man was to place his hopes for Eternia? Could such a civilization birth the hero needed? Somewhat wilted, Moss Man loped towards home.