saw,” the King intoned, hollowly; “what I saw was a many-legged lizard.”
Grimly, Master Falkreath turned the page. Upon that page was a figure which might well have been a portrait of Braamfohg himself and beside it…
“Oh,” the King said simply, letting the book fall from his suddenly weakened fingers.
“We have been tricked, Majesty,” Falkreath said, and he looked upon the form of the Queen with a heavy grief. “Braamfohg is a Fire Dwarf, the enemy of your long fathers for many a bitter century. The creature he rode astride was a giant salamander, which the Fire Dwarves breed for use as messenger-beasts and battle-steeds.”
“My... husband...” The Queen's eyes were still closed. King Edward rushed to her side, hoping for some eleventh-hour miracle, or perhaps that all of this was mistaken, a simple bad dream... alas, it was not to be so. The Queen could not raise her hands, so he leaned in close and kissed her upon her forehead. “I... am happy, my King,” she said.
“Why are you happy, my Queen?” Edward fought to keep his voice from breaking into a thousand pieces, as he truly felt that the rest of him must soon do, for he was not aware of how he could possibly proceed in the face of such new calamity. In all his bleakest visions of the future of his stewardship of Daventry, even in those where he resigned his throne or was deposed, never had he imagined doing anything without Katherine at his side. He felt, in that moment that he would have given up anything, even the lives of all of his people, dreadful though such a thing was to contemplate, if only he could save the life of his Queen.
“I... go, to the Halls of the Sun,” she said, smiling softly. “I can see them... even now; there is a light... you, are a good man, and a fine King, my love. I know that, someday... I shall see you therein.”
“No...” Edward cried, as the Queen's head fell back into her pillows, and her lips closed for the final time. Edward heard her breath lapse as he looked on, helpless to do anything, just as he had heard his own father's breath lapse on the day that he himself became king. Katherine had been young, then, dancing and singing, laughing at feasts, and always bringing out a smile in anyone who did lay eyes upon her; of course they were to marry. How, having seen her but once, could there be anyone else for him?
“Majesty...” Master Falkreath spoke, gently.
“No...” The King pressed his lips to his wife's, but there was no sign of movement from Katherine. Already her lips were cold, and he could feel no breath coming from her. “No... No..!”
The High Marshal had to pull him from the body of the Queen, so that her attendants might begin the preparations for her wake. Edward's advisers worked together to usher the despondent King out of the room, a king who up to that moment had never felt quite so small and lonely a man. They placed him upon his throne where he was vaguely aware of orders being given, riders were sent to try and intercept Braamfohg, and physicians were called to attend to Queen Katherine's embalming. A known and friendly wizard of Daventry even offered to encase her within a clear bed of crystal, that she might remain forever beautiful, and become a shrine for all to come and pay homage to, on down through the centuries.
He heard all of this, but did not recognize it. He saw nothing and grasped at naught but the fleeting image of his departed wife, whose face in health he was already having trouble remembering. There was talk of statues, of a portrait in the beloved Queen's likeness... and from all parts of the castle, there was a great and terrible wailing, as folk learned of the beloved Queen's passing and wept in a grief all their own. The church bells were silent, and it seemed to some that even birds, beasts and livestock hung their heads in quiet remembrance.
The soldiers who had been sent in pursuit of the treacherous dwarf, Braamfohg, returned to Daventry in defeat of their objective, notice of which only added to the general attitude of despair throughout the castle. It was said that, in haste of his pursuers, Braamfohg had leaped from his mount, straight into a hole in the ground, in the wilder lands to the edge of the kingdom. The soldiers of Daventry crept to the very edge of the hole, only to see Braamfohg struggling with a group of folk still more diminutive than himself but he was overwhelmed by the number of these strange beings, whom the soldiers did not recognize. They made their way further into the ancient tunnels that crisscrossed the land, connecting the surface-world with those realms that lay dark and deep, well out of sight. Whatever these people were, the soldiers reported, they had brought the shield of King Edward's father to a destination unknown, somewhere deep underground.
It was presumed that it lay very deep, given that nobody could say for certain what these creatures were, nor where they came from.
Kingdom in Distress
Now, the people of Daventry were a resilient lot. Such were the years of plenty, which they had enjoyed under King Edward and Queen Katherine, that there were those with supplies stored or tucked away and there was wealth to be found from merchants and nobles who were still willing, despite all which had transpired, to lend it on the King's word. Then, there was the last great treasure of Daventry: a magical chest, which no matter how often it was opened was always filled to the brim with coins of gold. This made the purchasing of food and supplies easier to accomplish, and though the King loathe letting many know of the existence of this great treasure, he was able to arrange for its use in paying the soldiers of Daventry's army, so that the people would still be protected. Edward went about his days in lingering sorrow, but with a dedication to his people and their continued well-being, that soon won for him once more admiration which had been lost upon the deceitful theft of the Kingdom's first two magical treasures. The people of Daventry felt more sorrow for their King and his loss than they did for their own.
It could well be said that the King's loss, and his lingering melancholy were perhaps the reasons behind his actions upon a subsequent summer's day while he was out riding through his private hunting reserves these having been long since opened to the general public, for those who wished to come and hunt the plentiful herds of deer, wild boar, and other creatures that dwelt within their borders. So it was that the King rode with a bodyguard, where once upon a time he had been wont to go alone, with the Queen, or with a small band of trusted companions.
On this particular day, there was a great outcry for help from a woman with a beautiful, golden voice. Riding hard down the trail, King Edward was horrified to find a lovely, dark-haired woman, who had climbed up a tree to evade of a pack of wolves that had hounded her to its roots. Seeing the woman's obvious distress, Edward and his guardsmen spurred their horses forward; the wolves, which seemed surprisingly hungry given the bounty of the reserve, were quick to turn and face them. The mounted guardsmen made short work of the animals, with the few that survived rushing off headlong into the woods; the King, meanwhile, was helping the young woman out of the tree, at which point she did look upon him with more than a passing gratitude for her salvation. “My Lord, I am called Princess Dahlia; to whom do I owe thanks for my salvation?” Her large, dark eyes glittered radiantly as she gazed upon him, and the King felt some of his lingering melancholy slipping away.
“To my guardsmen, it would seem,” said the King—not without a smile. “But I am called Edward, King of Daventry.”
“Oh!” The Princess' eyes opened wide. “How rude of me your Majesty, to address you so falsely and alas! Such a handsome and well-titled man as yourself must surely already have a queen of his own. I fear that I am given to flights of fancy, but the thought of being rescued from such mortal danger by a daring and winsome prince has long skipped its way through even my darkest of dreams. I confess...” She laughed lightly, but did continue to look upon him, “I had almost hoped it to be... a prophecy, of sorts.”
The King gazed upon the dark eyes of the raven-haired beauty for but a moment more, whereupon he leaned in close and stole such a passionate kiss from her ruby lips that the men surrounding him cheered and applauded, then gave a loud huzzah, for it seemed to them that the King had moved beyond his lingering d
epression, and was once more filled with a certain zest for life... and for love, as Princess Dahlia seemed to return her rescuer's affections.
She was brought back to the castle, where she was to be allowed to rest while recuperating from her ordeal but she was seen on many occasions accompanying the King throughout the storied structure's halls, gazing wide-eyed at every suit of armor, sword, and other item of note as Edward explained their significance. Few were surprised to learn of the King's proposal of marriage to the beautiful young woman, not two weeks later, though some did wonder aloud as to her origin and her parentage. There were no realms nearby with princesses who could not be readily accounted for... but the King was in love again, and the people were grateful enough for his sudden good turn that they were willing, once more, to extend him the benefit of the doubt.
The day of the wedding arrived, and the King was in his private chambers preparing, when one of his appointed bride- to- be Ladies in waiting approached his footman hesitantly. “Would you tell his Majesty,” she whispered, appearing fretful and concerned, “that I cannot find her Majesty, the Princess Dahlia, anywhere in the castle where I