Land of Salvania

  There once was a guard at a gate Who thought that the job was just great! His hat was so wide, It shaded his sides, And sunburned no more was his pate. /// Copyright

  I couldn't sleep, and my bladder was rousing me as urgently as any cat; the benefits of decrepitude never cease. I rose early and, after settling the score with my bladder, donned light armor. The Autumn sun was an hour from rising, so I stopped by the empty mess hall before heading outside. "Good morning, m'lord," the young sergeant of the guard said as he stood. His post was on the far side of the castle moat, and he doubtless heard the creaking drawbridge planks before he saw me. I offered him a slab of cold pork I had liberated from the mess hall. He nodded thanks, and the pork was gone in two bites. I asked for his report, and he replied simply, "All quiet. Heard an owl about an hour ago." "Any more smells?" I asked. The undead had a particular odor we had learned to recognize. "No, m'lord. But the wind is flat so far." I sent him to his bed and took my turn early. I hoped it would be quiet duty, just right for an old m...

  Duke Arthelon was worried. He gathered his advisers and said, "With the plague raging through the knights, how are we to defend the east wall? One said, we can dig a pit and fill it with vipers. Another said, we can setup empty armor on the walls to trick enemy spies. All of his other advisers spoke for or against these ideas. Except one. After the clamor died down, Duke Arthelon looked at the silent adviser, saying, "So, my friend Cendrol, you have said nothing. Do you have counsel?" Cendrol stood and looked at the faces around the room. "I have the solution, but you're not going to like it. Follow me." He led everyone to the wide balcony overlooking the east wall. A lad was below, looking up. He stood near a wooden crate big enough to hold a hunting dog. Cendrol said, "I found this specimen during my travels in the southern rain forest." He waved toward the lad. "Go ahead." The boy used a poleaxe to lift the crate's latc...

  "So, tell me what you saw," the Captain of the Guard asked the jeweler with the bloody nose. "Oi, me head is swimming. Am I going blind?" The young fop dabbed his nose with a blood-stained rag. His fancy silks were torn, but the Captain had seen worse carnage at a wedding celebration. "I think you'll survive," the Captain said, already regretting his involvement. The sergeant and corporal of the gate were out chasing the hooligan, so he was stuck talking to the fop. "It was horrible, I yell ya." "What did you see? Be quick." The Captain was losing his patience. "It was soldier in a green tunic with a white lion on his chest." The Captain pondered the "white lion" comment. Most likely, the hooligan was a member of the North Regiment. They were encamped a mile outside of town gathering conscripts for their annual service. The Captain said, "And he just walked in and punched you?" The fop took a defensiv...

  A crowd of insurrectionists with red banners came up the cobbled road. Some had rusty swords, but most had farm implements or kitchen knives. They stopped a stone's throw from the queen's sentries at the south gate. The lead insurrectionist stepped forward. He had teeth the color of river mud. He needed a bath a month ago. "We are twenty, and you are four. Give way, for we mean to enter the castle." The sentries did not move or show any reaction. Except one. One guard in a leather beret stepped forward, stopping within a spear-thrust of Brown Teeth. "Hello my fine fellow. I can see that you are distressed. Was it from missing a night in your sister's bed?" He roared with laughter, and a few of Brown Teeth's fellows twittered at the barb. The other guards might as well have been statues. Brown Teeth blinked in surprise, his face reddening. "We have the advantage. Step aside." The sentry said, "You would do well to go home....

Outside the Battle Museum, Trevor watched the effigy burn. A sign below the blazing straw figure read, "So end all who want war." Although he was a member of the village guard, his position outside the door was ceremonial. This meant his sword was safely at home. He ground his teeth in impotent rage. These townies had no idea the kind of sacrifices he and his comrades made on their behalf. He doubted any of the soft, well-fed fools could survive a week of drills and hard living along the border where skirmishes were more common than sleep. /// Copyright

"So, good Sergeant, you will attend us at the ball tonight." Princess Juliska had eyes like a barn owl: large, beautiful, unflinching. She reminded him of Teng, a little. Andrew of Salvania, Sergeant of the king's wilderness guard, bowed - but not too deeply. She was a princess, but he was her elder by probably ten years. Hard to tell with girls, though. The Autumn day was cool, but the sun was just right. They were meeting in an alcove off the castle courtyard instead of the throne room. That suited Andrew just fine. He didn't care to be indoors much. He saw her glance again at the fresh scar on his whiskered cheek. She seemed quite taken with it in an unsettling way. He could tell she was dying to know. He touched the scar and said, "Troll got too close last week. It was my own fault; I'm much, much faster than a hill troll fattening up for his winter sleep." Her eyes never changed, but her mouth softened, almost like her lips wanted to say ...

Ulrich blinked in the gods be damned desert heat as he trudged over the baked scrubland toward a shadow, a castle. They built it around an oasis for parched travelers if the rumors were true. Maybe they built it around an eligible princess as well. He was amazed that there was only one guard outside the castle. He wore no obvious armor or shield, and his desert scimitar was no match for the Northman’s axe. Moreover, he looked well past his prime. When Ulrich reached a spear-throw from the guard, the man stepped forward and held out his hand. A string of unknown language followed. “I am sorry, my friend,” Ulrich said, showing his empty hands. “I do not speak your language.” The leather-skinned guard regarded him for a moment and scratched his scruffy beard. If he was like every other castle guard in every other part of Salvania, he was probably figuring how to extract a “toll” for entry. He stepped forward to meet Ulrich.  “Why is you be here?” the guard asked. “What is you ...