Ignorance is bliss. Well, unless it involves an army of flesh-eating Vallen.

…or the in-laws.

Seriously.

At least the Vallen eat and leave.

By late afternoon Til-Thorin Keep looked more like an ant colony, than a castle. The front gates were wide open, farmers, merchants and servants drove beasts of burden or pulled handcarts filled with supplies, into the courtyard. The resident architect walked along the curtain walls, examining the catwalks, fortifications, and checked the mechanical gears of the portcullis. The Keep’s blacksmith, as was the blacksmith from Woodside, diligently worked the forge—repairing and shaping armor, sharpening sword and axe and shoeing horses. Fletchers worked close by to refill the armory with ammunition.

Though the wind was growing colder as the day wore on, the doors of the Great Hall remained open.

Lady Tamorah stood by King Robert’s side, studying the map of the Keep and its surrounding mountains. Next to her stood Altorin and Gaidred. They had spread maps across the long table, anchored down with plates and mugs. Chuck helped familiarize them with the roads, highways and well used paths. Captain Joram sat nearby, hunched over lists and tallies of men and supplies.

All of them looked up as two of the Rook entered the hall.

“My lady,” called Andor, striding forward and bowing deeply. He also nodded to King Robert in turn. The younger Rook at his flank also bowed, but remained silent.

“I bring news from East.” The smooth skin of his forehead crinkled in concern. It caused his youthful face to age in an instant. “We have ventured over the pass, through the Twill Forest and down into the Mist Planes.” His almond eyes flickered across those gathered around the table. “There are signs of movement,” he started, “and we discovered many dead.”

King Robert gave the Rook a grave look, “Dead?”

The Evolu nodded, “Bodies of the enemy. Scouting parties are my guess. Ten, sometimes fifteen bodies at a time—but each group we found were mutilated and…hidden.”

Altorin looked up from his map, “That sounds like the skill of your own people.”

Andor shook his head, “We are skilled, yes, but there were two, even three of the great Therrin hunters in the same locale. If these are true masters of their barbaric race, it would take a number of our own to dispatch them. Even so, there would be blood on both sides.” He looked nervously between the Iskari and his Evolu lady. “But the only blood we could discover, was that of the hunters.”

Lady Tamorah frowned, “What do you mean by hidden, Andor?”

The Rook reached into his vest and pulled out a barbed arrowhead. He handed it to Tamorah. “We found this embedded in several slain giants. The arrows were snapped off at the surface of the skin.”

Tamorah turned the small piece of metal over in her fingers, examining the engravings. Slim etchings that crossed one another and turned in on themselves. Symbols that looked ancient, but she could not place them. Looking up at the wizard, “Chuck, would you be willing to take a look at –“

“May I see that?” interrupted King Robert. He took the piece of metal and placed in the palm of his glove. He held it close to his face to examine.

“I think you need glasses,” the wizard started.

“Not now, Chuck,” dismissed the king.

The wizard shrugged, “I’m just saying…”

Lady Tamorah watched King Robert carefully. “Do you recognize it?”

The ends of the King’s mustache slowly rose upward, his closed-lipped smile becoming apparent. But he said nothing. He place the arrowhead on the table in front of Tamorah.

“Robert?”

The King looked at her, his eyes soft and calm, “It may be nothing. Better to let it lie than hope for what may be an illusion.” And he turned back to the maps.

Alhannah entered the hall with a clatter of chain and plate armor, her boots clicking across the floor. Her bright red hair had lightened, her pale skin now blemished with the dirt of a hard ride. She looked exceptionally exhausted, yet happy and exuberant. She followed in the wake of another member of the Rook.

“Now that’s what I call a ride,” she beamed, looking up at her elf companion. “Taeel is one mean horseman!”

Taeel had a close lipped smile carved across to his face, streaks of sweat and dirt running down his cheeks. He bowed his head in her direction, “And I would not have suspected that your race had such tenacity and skill to outmatch your size.”

Alhannah blushed and slugged Taeel int he leg, “Aww, now you’re just talking sweet!”

They laughed together.

Chuck glared down at the gnome with folded arms, “Well if you two warrior princesses are done flirting with each other, mind telling us what you found?”

Alhannah stopped short. Everyone was staring at her. “What?” she bellowed. Her grin immediately changed to a scowl. “Can’t a girl enjoy a race once in a while? You all look like I trampled over a puppy or something.”

The King chuckled, “On the contrary, Lady Alhannah, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself—now, if you would be so kind as to give me your report?”

She shot the wizard a mean glance, then turned and bowed to the King graciously, “Of course, sire.” She slowly pulled off her gloves, “We found a small band of enemy soldiers half a day’s ride Southwest of the front gate. We’d stopped to water the horses and noticed an unusual amount of flies near the waterline. I found a body hunched over, half immersed—which looked like he’d been running and ended up falling in with his last breath. When we pulled him out, to keep from contaminating the water—we found an arrow straight through the back of his head and out his mouth.” She shook her head in disbelief, “ Weird thing—the shaft was snapped off at the surface of the skin.”

Lady Tamorah looked to King Robert, but he continued to watch the gnome.

“We found the path the Vallen had run,” said Taeel, “so we followed it back to a small clearing. With a little effort, we found a cave. It was nestled in a small hillside, almost invisible. We found several bed rolls, the remains of a cooking fire but no other supplies. It looked like it was being used as a central base camp. “ Taeel looked at the gnome uncomfortably, “But there was a smell. Putrid and rancid, lingering in the stale air. Alhannah investigated the depth of the cavern and discovered many dead Vallen.” The Evolu looked at the King nervously. “The bodies could not have been more than two to three days old. However, I could not find a single cut or puncture wound.”

The King’s head snapped upright, astonished, “Then how did they die? Poison? Magic?”

Alhannah shook her head, “Broken necks.”

Joram tossed the sheets of parchment onto the table. “It’s starting to sound to me,” he said sarcastically, “that the ghosts of the forest are taking care of the enemy for us.” He laughed to himself and reached for the pitcher of mead, but his hand shook as he poured the drink. “The enemy is going to an awful lot of trouble to gather information about us. Scouting parties everywhere.”

“But they’re being wiped out,” said Gaidred, “which means we are receiving aid from someone.”

“Someone who’s paying attention.” Joram pulled a sheet of parchment and place it on top of the stack. “We have 538 men accounted for, sire. 78 within the Keep, 200 from Woodside, 101 from local farms and an additional 119 from Eberfalls.” he looked down the list, taking the quill and checking off each item. “Weapons for each soldier, including 200 bows. Our fletchers are working to replenish the stock of arrows as we speak. Armor and shields are being rounded up from the Keep and Woodside. Our grain supply will allow us to sustain a maximum force for three weeks. We can enhance this by the foodstuffs collected from Woodside as well. I believe it wise to send out huntsman within the hour to hunt, kill and return with any game they can find within the next two days. Even if we send them through the back pass, towards Andilain, to provide more time. We can salt and dry the meat to extend our survival.”

He took a mouthful of mead and swallowed heavily. “Luckily, sire, we have the mountain springs available to us from within Til-Thorin. So freshwater is unlimited.”

The King nodded, “Excellent, Captain Joram.”

There was a shout from out in the courtyard. A guard screaming from the top of his lungs.

“RIDER! RIDER ON THE FIELD!!” echoed the voice.

King Robert rushed from the Great Hall and swiftly ran down the steps of the Keep. The guards at the front gate jumped aside as two of the Rook flew past them on horseback. Nimble hands pulled back on the reins of the mighty steeds, lithe bodies sliding from saddles effortlessly before either of the horses came to a full stop. The elves presented themselves and knelt at the feet of Lady Tamorah.

“Rise Odd,” she said, “Lemrull.”

The Rook stood upright, both breathing heavily.

“What news do you bring from the south?”

Odd, a broad shouldered elf, reached into his side pouch and pulled forth a small, green gem. He held it out in his tan gloves, “Ill tidings, I’m afraid.”

Tamorah held the smooth stone between her fingers and held it up in the light.

“What’s that?” asked Alhannah, squeezing between the Iskari.

“A sight stone,” Tamorah said softly. She turned around and looked at King Robert, gripping the stone tightly in her fist.

He nodded.

“Your band, Odd,” said Tamorah holding out her hand.

Chuck pushed his way forward with an exasperated sigh. “Oh, for goodness sakes, hand it over.” He reached out and snatched the stone from the maiden’s palm. “Let’s do this so everyone can see, shall we? And he turned abruptly, pushing his way through the group and hobbled back up the steps to the hall.

“But, only one can view through a sight stone,” Tamorah challenged, walking briskly behind the wizard. “I have the skill to see through the stone, old one.”

But Chuck just waved his hand over his shoulder, annoyed.

“Yes, yes…children…playing with grown up toys.” He stopped at the table and spun around, pointing a boney finger in her face. Tamorah recoiled. “But you wouldn’t think such ninny thoughts if you’d spend more time with gnomes! Now there’s intelligent folk! Brilliant as the Brits, I say!” He looked down at Alhannah and gave an exaggerated wink.

She beamed.

“Brits?” Tamorah asked, then she asked in a softer tone, “What’s a Brit?”

Chuck looked around at those in the room. They were all staring back at him, dumbfounded. His mustache shifted to one side of his face. “Clever people, talk with a funny accent…live on a small island like the gnomes?” He rolled his eyes and grunted, “Oh never mind.”

Yanking his wide brimmed hat from his head, Chuck stuck his arm in, up to his shoulder and fished around.

The papers slipped from Joram’s grasp, fluttering to the floor as he stood, wide-eyed and amazed, brows arched high.

Birds squawked and glass broke, along with a hiss from the wizard. “Blasted and tarnation!” he cursed, and shoved his head inside the hole. “Awwww! Dax made that ashtray for Fathers Day…” He peeked over the rim at Alhannah, “Don’t you dare tell him a thing.”

She calmly held up both hands, “Not a word.”

Chuck finally yanked out several long metal rods. Two were more than twice the length of his hat, including a small tripod. There pieces were dented and covered in rust spots. Chuck shoved them into Joram’s arms.

“Be a good lad and set those on the table, while I find the other pieces. That’s a good boy.”

“But…how…” he looked around bewildered, “He pulled this from his hat.”

Chuck looked over at King Robert. “Quick, that one.”

Setting the rods on the table, the wizard pulled out a long wooden box with leather straps securing the lid in place. “Ahh, here we go,” he smiled, and walked to the table.

Placing the tripod on the table, he fastened the shorter rod to it. The longer rod was attached with a wide knob that looked a lot like a gear. This created a “T” bar.

Alhannah hopped up onto the table, “Want a hand?”

Chuck grinned, “You remember?”

She smirked, “Who’s my dad?”

The wizard laughed, “You take the lenses then.”

Opening the long box revealed slats covered in cloth. Between the slats were dozens of oval pieces of what looked to be glass. Chuck pulled out several over dark metal pieces and quickly attached them to the horizontal rod. Counter weights, a hanging dish, covered in a wax residue, a metal tube with open slits in the top and a large “C” shaped claw with tiny holes all over it.

“The good people of Clockworks City have very strict laws against sharing their black magic,” he scoffed at the mention of the term, “but we mägo still have an in with their techno-mages. Their technology has something called a projector, which allows one to shine an image onto any surface.”

Attaching the dish and counterweights, the wizard screwed several pins into the claw, fastening it to the opposite end to the dish. Grabbing the nearest candle from the table, Chuck placed it gingerly in the dish and adjusted it’s height with the small dial. Next, he lifted the three mirrors from the end of the long box and fastened one directly behind the candle, the other two, attached to the claw.

“This,” the wizard said with pride, “is a hybrid contraption, compliments of Höbin Luckyfeller and yours truly. Not technically a creation from Clockworks, but used for magical purposed.” He lifted a small wire basket from the wooden box and palmed the small green stone into it. The gem settled into the base. With deft precision, Chuck attached it to the claw. “Now let’s have some fun, shall we?”

Joram shook his head, puzzled. “What’s that supposed to do? It had a mirror behind the candle. So? We have mirrors in many of the apartments here in Til-Thorin.”

The wizard paused as he leaned over the table. He slowly rotated his head to look at the captain. “Ahhhh,” he said with a broad smirk, “but can they do this?”

And he snapped his fingers.

The three mirrors aligned on the device, so the light from the candle was reflected through the tube, hit the small mirror at the opposite end, reflected it to the mirror above it, and down through the gem. The result was a soft green glow over the surface of the table.

“Oh,” chuckled Joram, though trying not to sound cruel, “now that’s impressive.”

Tamorah stepped towards the device, “If you don’t mind, Morphiophelius, I will simply…”

“Do nothing!” Chuck snapped. He flicked his hand at the elf, irritated, “Patience! Patience! Goodness me, some people’s children.” He nodded to Alhannah, who knelt at the side of the device, two oval lenses in her hands. “I think four should do it, dearest.”

With that, Alhannah slid in the first lens.

The light emanating from the end of the tube was significantly brighter.

She slid the second and third lenses into the slits of the tube.

The light flared, pulling inward—a tight beam of light, brighter than snow.

Joram’s jaw dropped. “Look at the table,” he gasped.

The green light shifted to contain a rainbow of colors and just just random reflections—but specific shapes hovering above the wood.

“Yup, one more should do it,” said Chuck, tapping his chin as he inspected the green stone. “Drop it in ‘Hannah.”

The last lens slid into place and the whole image came into focus.

Spinning on his heels, the wizard waved his hands in a wide arch over his head. The drapes of the Greta Hall jumped across the windows, and the doors pushed the guards out of their way, slamming shut. The hall was plunged into darkness.

He waved his hand in the direction of Captain Joram, who was now cringing behind one of the chairs. “Oh, someone hold the boys hand. He looks like he’s about to pop a noodle.” He smiled at the Captain like a grandfather would a tiny infant. “It will be ok,” he cooed.

From the top of the table rose a perfect 3D map of the land.

“Til-Thorin,” King Robert pointed, the Keep appearing between the two highest mountain peaks.

“It’s the whole of the Tilliman Highlands,” gasped Joram in awe, now creeping up to the table.

“Like I said, a projector—puts pictures up on a wall for you to watch. Brilliant idea…just limited in its application. So, we made our own.” He reached down with a finger and tugged on the land mass. It shifted from north to south. “A Sight Stone contains all the things a person sees when using it. But it only recalls what the viewer knows to ask.” He tugged on a mountain peak with his middle finger and the scenery scrolled southward, until they saw the north end of Binmeer Lake. “I f you give the stone enough light, you tap into it’s ability to record and replay everything it sees. Well,…while it’s not in someone’s pocket, anyway.”

Odd shook his head in bewilderment. “I keep it attached to my headband when scouting, so I may use its power without having to manipulate the gem with my fingers.” He reached forward to touch the top of the forest trees surrounding the lake, “And it watches even when not evoked?”

Chuck shrugged, “Yes and no. Long story, so let’s move on, shall we? RIGHT! What exactly did you want to show us, Ogg?”

“I’m Odd,” the elf corrected the wizard.

Chuck smiled, “Yes, you are, but what did you want to show us?” He looked at Tamorah. “Get it? Odd? He’s…odd?….Oh, never mind.”

Odd pointed at a dark blemish slowly moving around Binmeer. “We discovered a large force, marching north. We estimate at least four thousand strong, maybe more. They’re sending out skirmish parties, attacking villages and farms along the way.”

Both Iskari Elders leaned over the table.

“That does not look like an army,” observed Gaidred.

“Which is the other concern we had,” replied the Rook, “Is there any way to make this…bigger?” He looked to the wizard.

Chuck stared at the elf, stunned. “I just made the three dimensional, interactive map with rusted iron, mirrors and a candle…and you want it BIGGER?!” The bushy white brows on his head, rolled forward, “You didn’t even know this technology existed, now you want it customizable?” He looked over at Alhannah, “Do I LOOK like the technology fairy to you?”

“Chuck,” interrupted the King, “can it be done?”

The wizard stood abruptly upright and smoothed out his beard. He cleared his throat, “Maybe…”

He reached over the image with both hands, pinched two of the mountains and made outward pulling motions. The whole scene enlarged dramatically—rocks, trees and wildlife zoomed into view. “WOAH!” Chuck exclaimed as the picture focused in on the dark spot. “Change that to a definite yes.”

Odd looked around the table gravely, “This is what caused us to fear and return in haste.”

Centered on the table was a growing black mushroom. Clouds rolling along the ground, billowed upwards into the sky, swallowing up natures white versions as it expanded. The charcoal haze made it difficult to see how large the enemy force actually was. Lightening cracked about the edges. Tiny ant-like beings ran along the ground in groups.

Alhannah put her nose against the tables surface, trying to peer under the dark clouds. “Still can’t see a thing. They almost look like ghosts, floating around and through each other.”

Chuck stared at the scene, one arm wrapped across his chest, the other tugging and combing his mustache. “They don’t want us to see them.”

“How long do we have before they arrive?” asked Altorin, following Alhannah’s example.

Lemrull turned to King Robert, “At their current speed, no more than three days, sire.”

The King looked calmly back at the cloud. “Doesn’t give us much time,” he said aloud, though to no one in particular. “If we’re to succeed.”

“Succeed, sire?” choked Joram. It looked, under candle light, that the short Captain had lost color in his face. “The men need to be trained—most of them are just farmers. Supplies must be brought into the walls with haste.” His eyes looked to the papers he’d been organizing upon the table, “And the families—the children—must be evacuated post-haste. Those who cannot fight, must be organized to support and bandage. Those who cannot do either must needs flee to the protection of Andilain. I fear there is little hope of succeeding without a miracle, my King.”

When Joram looked up, he found the entire room focused on him.

“Did I…say something wrong?”

King Robert looked to Lady Tamorah and then to the Rook. The salted facial hair rose with his broad grin. “Then, Captain, we must provide that miracle. By breeding hope through strong examples of leadership.”

The elf maiden’s face softened with her smile, the smooth lines of her face, curling upwards.

“So be it!” the King bellowed and drew his broadsword.

“Captain Joram, stand forth,” he commanded sternly.

“Sire?”

“Kneel.”

Joram slowly, but obediently, bowed his head and knelt at the feet of his King.

Touching the wide blade on each side of Joram’s shoulders, the King’s deep voice echoed through the hall. “Captain Joram, I, King Robert III, ruler and defender of Andilain and her beloved people, ordain thee Lord, Steward of Til-Thorin. I charge thee with the protection of this Keep, her people, and the defense of the Kingdom against all foes opposed to the throne, until old age prevent thee or death take thee.”

The sword point lowered to the ground, but Joram did not rise.

“Sire,” he stammered, “I…”

“Will be one I can count on,” finished Robert. “Of that I have no doubt. Rise Lord Joram and pledge your friendship to your King.” He stood motionless with an open hand.

Joram looked at the hand, then up at the King. He looked visibly confused and befuddled.

King Robert eyes held Joram fast, “I can command you, Joram, as your King. To carry out my word, to do my bidding. But this land must be maintained by those of one heart and one mind. If I may count on you, give me your hand of friendship…as I give you mine.”

Hands clasp together in a solid grip.

Turning to the room, both guests and servants, King Robert presented the new Steward of Til-Thorin. The Guards and Rook all cheered for Lord Joram, and Chuck, who was in tears, blew his nose into a faded, grey handkerchief.

“I love it when he talks noble-ish,” he muttered to himself.

The King waited for the applause to cease and then turned back to Joram, the Rook and the Iskari Elders.

“Now that Til-Thorin once more has a Steward, let us see what we can do to become a stumbling block for our unwelcome guests…”