CHAPTER VII: MANORS, MANORS…
Celathiel, Sic and Furrius walked the cobblestone path leading up to the Duke's manor at the top of a hill in Suffolk – it was quite a sight. As they got closer, what looked like old-fashioned log-style walls gave way to the illusion of metallic paneling just formed to look like logs. Huge hedges were teetering around them as they neared the guard tower one-hundred feet in front of the three-story manor.
"Halt! What can I do for you gentlemen?" the guard asked cordially.
"Long days and pleasant nights to you, good sir…we seek council from the Duke of Suffolk…" Celathiel began to prod, hoping to win over the brutish looking guard.
"Oh…gee, he isn't in right now…he's out on a tour of the town in his carriage…surprised you missed it, actually."
"Do you know when he'll be returning?" Sic prodded.
"Hmmm…no idea. Could be anytime…I mean, it all depends on where he stops to talk and how long he chats for, you know?"
Furrius suddenly lost all restraint and stupidly looked up at the guard tower, the sun seeping into his elvin eyes. "So do you know of any staff changes in the manor recently? Perhaps…the head mage?"
The guard looked cautiously below as he slowly shook his head. "Never heard of no 'head mage'…what the hell is that, anyway? Naw…I'm just a guard…the Duke fires and hires people all the time…what's the issue?"
"Ah, nothing, nothing sir. We appreciate your time…" Celathiel tried to cover Furrius' mouth as he shuffled backwards, but it did little good – Furrius continued his 'diplomatic inquiry'.
"Must be pretty hot up there, my friend…can we buy you a mug of ale?"
"Uh…not while I'm on the job…" he replied, growing more skeptical by the second…
If looks could kill, Sic and Celathiel would have not only drawn and quartered Furrius, but tossed each quarter into separate vats of acid, poured them over a cliff in the mouths of ravenous sharks, and fired successive rounds of magic missiles into the aquatic creatures' stomachs. As Celathiel ushered the clumsy cleric away, Sic managed to glean that the Duke may have been examining the smithy's shop that day. As they trod down the hot path, Sic and Celathiel knocked Furrius back and forth like a pinball.
"That's diplomacy? WHAT ABOUT THE HEAD MAGE! You can't just ask that!" Celathiel berated him.
"Can we buy you a MUG OF ALE? A guard! Of the most respected figure in town? A MUG OF ALE?" Sic screamed, smacking Furrius in the back of the head.
"Hey! How do you get answers to questions without asking them? Sheesh…"
As the three 'diplomats' met with Krougu, Barakus and Illonel in front of the TWINN, the six of them headed off toward the smithy on the guard's tip. Sure enough, in front of the large weapon shop stood a horse-drawn carriage of solid gold…it almost made the treasure seekers drool with delight…
"How good are you at hiding, Krougu? Maybe stow away in the Duke's cart and find out that way?" Furrius proposed.
"Not that good…besides, what would I do once I got in – 'ta-daa! So, what about the head mage?' Forget about it…"
The smithy shop had two sections – one, a small storefront, was an outdoor desk that had various wares on display. Behind that, however, was a large warehouse that contained hundreds, nay, thousands of weapons. It was clear that the Duke's militia was outfitted from the smithy as they navigated the large storage facility behind the main shop.
Up ahead stood a prestigious human, a flowing cape around his neck, chatting affably with the smithy. Flanking him were four armed guards, each a member of his personal militia. They looked in all directions, keeping close watch on anyone daring to get too close to the Duke.
"What now? Think we can take them?" Celathiel asked about the guards.
Now it was time to Furrius to smack him around. "We're not kidnapping the Duke!"
"Why not?" Celathiel asked, as Barakus rapped the blunt edge of his greataxe on his head.
"Do we have a net? Do we have ANYTHING remotely close to what is necessary to kidnap a person? What a stupid idea…" the cleric yelled in a whisper, spittle drenching the sorcerer's ear and cheek.
Furrius could have sworn he heard Celathiel cough 'head mage' into his hand, causing the four companions to laugh at the cleric.
"Look, let's just go up and ask him for a private meeting…" Krougu said.
"How many Dukes have you met in your lifetime, pal? Ain't no way we're just waltzing up and getting a meeting…but I do know of another way to get his attention…" Sic said, removing his guitar from his bag.
Celathiel and Furrius caught on to the plan immediately. Illonel, Krougu and Barakus stood back, their hands itching to draw their weapons in case of an emergency.
Prestidigitation coming through in a pinch once again, Sic's initial strum reverberated off of all the walls in the smithy warehouse. Lights of purple and gold flashed, illuminating the performers.
"Ladies and gentlemen…Duke of Suffolk…I present Sic, the amazing bard and his band of merry travelers!" the cleric declared. After a rousing rendition of "O, The Wee Lands of Nottingshire", the bard, cleric and sorcerer bowed low to the Duke. Surprisingly enough, he seemed impressed – the entire room was filled with applause and cheering (though, some of it was from Celathiel's spell, it did help to 'sell' him on their talent) as the Duke stepped forward to the six travelers.
"Splendid…quite a show, I must say. You simply must play at my upcoming ball…" the Duke said regally. "Though, you must dress this one more…appropriately…" he said, staring at Barakus. The barbarian smiled widely, perfectly aware that his appearance pissed off the Duke; he didn't care in the slightest. His rags were reminders…reminders of a time long gone.
Furrius felt a strange sensation in his throat as he tried to ask the Duke directly about the head mage; all that came out of his mouth was 'myrrggh…'.
Shaking off the cleric's strangely inarticulate display, the Duke nodded as the guards flanked him, leading him out of the smithy. "I shall send for you…"
"Room fourteen at the Three Winds Inn, sire…" Illonel informed him, and without another word, he was gone. The six of them celebrated that night, turning in a bit later than they had planned, though their cheeks were red with delight and bellies full of delicious liquor.
As they awoke the next morning, a loud rapping on the door raised Krougu to his feet. After opening the door, the groggy friends saw two armed guards staring seriously into the room.
"Seven days – we shall send back with a carriage to escort you to the ball, on the behest of the Duke of Suffolk," one of them said, and immediately after he said 'Suffolk', they turned and left, leaving the groggy Krougu in the doorway.
That day and the following two were spent practicing – Furrius managed to string together some impressive anecdotes and outright lies about the band's history as Celathiel improved Sic's show in the streets of Suffolk. Illonel had even joined the group – by casting ghost sound, he was able to trick onlookers into thinking he was playing an invisible lute of some kind; it was just the type of magical display that made the group so popular over the few days they spent practicing. By the fifth day, people actually sought out the group – between their fancy shows and the fact that they would be playing for the Duke in a few days time, they became quite popular, indeed.
"I think we've practiced enough…" Illonel said through a mouthful of meat one evening at a table in one of the local taverns. "I'm ready to do this…"
"Soon, soon…just another day…" Celathiel assured him.
"You know, if we have a day to spare, I'd like to get this cloak checked out by someone in town…see if it has any magical properties or whatnot…"
Barakus, Krougu and Furrius continued to eat silently as Illonel stayed Sic and Celathiel with a single gesture of his hand. He left the table and didn't return for almost half-an hour. As he sauntered back into the room, he sat down with a smug look on his face.
"My friend Emily – you know, the wizard whose been teaching me cantrips? – knows of such a place. A…kind of exclusive mage shop, outside of town. It's past the rural land, way over the river…she said it's visible 'most days'…whatever that meant…" he explained, poking at his cold meal as his companions finished theirs.
"Most days?" Sic asked, perplexed.
Illonel shrugged. "We'll check it out tomorrow. Hopefully, we'll find what you're looking for…"
Barakus smiled and began to shake with uncontrollable laughter as he looked at Furrius across the table. Slamming his massive palm onto the wooden surface, he merely said "head mage…idiot!" before he began to laugh outwardly. The rest of the table soon joined in, Furrius' cheeks turning red as his friends had their laughs at his expense…