The Prophesy: Book 1 - Cave Lupus

 

The great Hall of Nature, the cavernous Throne of Nature, was divided in two by a double row of legionnaires, wolves, and Elvin guards in full ceremonial gear. The outer limits of the hall were also lined by a double rank of legionnaires, wolves and Elvin guards. The golden carpet, whose colour closely matched those of a maple leaf in the fall, had been unrolled and led from the entrance to the throne dais. A total of seven thrones were arrayed on the dais, disposed an arrow shape. In the forefront was a throne made of dark wood with a wolf head sculpted in bleached maple above the headrest. The leaf-shaped throne of King Samson at the left of the Wolf throne, and to the right was a smaller throne with another wolf head sculpted above the headrest located at the same level as the Elvin Throne. Further back were Thrones with a golden leaf on the left, and a wolf head on the right, and still further back on both sides were additional thrones with smaller wolf heads, numbering three, and another one, with a cartwheel.

On the steps of the dais, located on each side, were tables and chairs whose purposes were as mysterious to the casual observer as the disposition or the existence of the vast majority of the thrones found on the upper level of the dais.

The antechamber of the Hall was packed with every possible crowned head of the Elvin Kingdom, and quite a few who had no reason to be there except to satisfy their curiosity. The Throne Room itself was also packed except where chairs had been disposed for the coming dignitaries. Row after row of chairs were set, with the colours and blazons of each party clearly visible for everyone to see. There was a set order of entry, with the highest-ranking first followed by ever-lower ranks in the hierarchy. The Chamberlain of King Samson, better acquainted with the intricacies of the Royal Court of the Throne of Nature, had taken charge of setting the order of calling. With the help of both King Samson's and King Harold's heralds, he had organized it so they would call names in turn.

The first to enter the Throne room was King Harold, who was accompanied by a page to the Throne of the Wolf. As he sat down, he took Mitsuko out of its scabbard and let it rest on a low-lying table to his right, between his throne and the one destined to Annabelle.

"I hope Your Majesty paid a visit to the latrines, before coming," commented the page. "It can be embarrassing to exit the room in the middle of such an event!"

"Yes, King Samson reminded us of the issue, and we all took a trip to relieve ourselves. As for food, we are way too nervous to have even eaten a bite during the hour preceding the parade."

"May I remind Your Majesty that if thirst strikes, there are juices available on the tables. Just give a sign and one of the pages will bring you a glass of whatever you ask."

"Oh, OK, I thought these pitchers contained water for the staff."

"We have our own, Sire, behind the Thrones."

By then, the next entry was announced:

"Queen Annabelle of the Wolf Throne, mother to the heir of the Wolf Throne!"

As she was announced, the legionnaires slammed their pila on the floor, in a resounding noise.

Followed, announced by the other herald:

"King Samson of the Elves, ruler of the Throne of Nature!"

And it continued with:

"Prince Ian, Heir to the Wolf Throne with his Milk Nanny, Samantha, of the Wolf Clan!"

The arrival of the bitch carrying in her mouth the basket containing Ian made sensation! Everyone could see the huge bitch carrying the fragile basket with a dignity that matched any crowned figure.

"Prince Enron, Heir to the Throne of Nature!"

"Prince Paschal, of the Throne of the Wolf!"

The protocol specialists had debated it a long time, but the three boys had insisted that Paschal, being the first found, was the eldest, even if he was younger than Sitar, so the Chamberlain finally relented.

"Prince Sitar, of the Wolf Throne!"

"Prince Harp, of the Wolf Throne!"

"Grand Master Dunbar of the Order of the Road!"

"Companion Carpenter Williams!"

If Dunbar's call created a buzz, this created a hush, because this definitely was not a crowned head, and should have been left with the populace, according to the maniacs of blue blood. But King Samson had insisted and made it clear that the man had more dignity in him than the collection of rats trying to eat him up alive before the worms had a chance to fatten up on his carcass.

"Blackie, and his companion Cleopatra, accompanied by their pups, Nefertari, Nefertiti, Hatshepsut, Caesar, Claudius and Brutus!"

The dogs walked regally towards the Thrones, as the assembly was stunned to silence. Dogs had precedence over humans? This was a scandal! The dogs took position at their assigned places, as each sat to the right of its assigned throne.

The next batch to be admitted, by decreasing age, were the Archdukes; then followed the Dukes, the Barons, and the other Peers. Finally the other members of the court came in to present their homage, and retreated behind the row of guards that kept the midsection clear.

The final group to make a formal appearance were the Court Officers. Included were the Chamberlains, Scribes, Bearers of different symbols of authority, and other important figures of a fully functional Court. Then the Captains of the Guards presented their sword to their respective King, and finally a magnificent grey wolf, the equivalent of the Captain of the Guard for the Wolf Throne wolf pack, walked in, sat, and presented his right paw to Harold, who shook it.

"Welcome, Greywolf. Please be seated with my Centurion of Cavalry and Captain of the Legionnaire Guards, Yamato. I am very pleased with the support and fidelity the Wolves and their brothers have shown to us."

The exchange had been made possible by Paschal, who had whispered the wolf's name to Harold, and the instructions were forwarded to Greywolf by Paschal. That the King seemed to be able to not only understand the giant wolf, but also communicate with it and get immediate obedience was not lost on all present. The din increased considerably as the reality sank in.

***

Harold waited for a few minutes, so all those that needed to comment the events could do so with the nearest neighbours. He then raised his right hand to call the assembly to order. It took a few calls of the Royal trumpets to bring silence, but finally, calm was restored.

"Let the Royal Seer approach the Throne of the Wolf!" ordered Harold.

The old woman, escorted by a wolf on her left and a legionnaire on her right, made her way along the carpet, stopping three feet from the first step.

"Seer, expose to the assembly the events that transpired since the last equinox!"

As the Seer exposed the facts, the din resumed, until Harold lost patience.

"Be quiet!" he hollered, "How can you expect to hear her report if you talk louder than this frail lady can! The next one that opens his mouth before she is finished will have his head placed on a spike at the village entrance! Is that clear?"

Harold's outburst shocked the attendance, but elicited a wide smile from Samson. If any doubts remained, the carnivorous smile exhibited by the Elvin King convinced the rebellious that the threat was serious.

The Seer resumed her description of the facts, and turned towards King Samson.

King Samson took over. "The Day of Dawning has passed on the last equinox. We, Elves, must acknowledge the Law of Nature, and act accordingly. The Prophecy is clear. The Wolf King is amongst us, as witnessed by the number of canines found in this assembly, and by the ease with which King Harold gets their help. By our own law, we must swear fealty to the Wolf Throne. I encourage all of you to renew their vows to the Throne of Nature and vow obedience to the Throne of the Wolf."

The din had been getting noisier as King Samson talked, and reached a roar at that last comment. Harold gave a hand signal and the trumpets rang again. This time it took three calls to bring the noise down to a manageable level.

"To make sure that all members of the court have sworn fealty, a roll call will be held! Any person that has not sworn fealty in full truth to King Harold by the end of the ceremony will be executed! I shall be the first to swear fealty to King Harold, followed by my son, Enron. The Sword of the Light, which is held in safekeeping by the King of the Wolf Throne, shall attest to the truthfulness of these oaths. Let me reveal to you that the Sword of Light can detect truth from falsehood. Pray my heart not falter when I so swear!"

Pandemonium broke loose. A few enterprising archdukes decided it was time to put an end to this folly and charged the throne. Before they could even step foot on the first steps, the boys had thrown their knives and cut short any protests from the assailants, as the blades cut through their windpipe. As announced earlier, the traitors, albeit already dead, were beheaded on the spot and the heads presented for identification to Samson's Chamberlain, before being taken out and placed on a row of spikes at the village entrance. The bodies, short by a head, were tied onto their seat, as a reminder of the consequences of high treason.

Harold addressed the nervous crowd. "Hear me, and hear me well. My sword will flash green if your heart and soul are truly in accord with your words; otherwise, it will flash red. You will either pass this test or forfeit your life! Mitsuko!" hollered Harold, as he took the sword, and a bright light emanated from the blade.

So this was the Test, thought Enron, as he began shaking visibly. Would he pass or fail? Paschal noticed his predicament and whispered to him "Remember Harp's recommendation. Be true to your heart, and all will go well!"

The Ceremony of Fealty began with Annabelle. She kneeled in front of Harold, and Harold recited the fealty vow, which was repeated by Annabelle:

"I, Annabelle, Centurion, wife of King Harold of the Wolf Throne, Queen Mother of Ian, Heir to the Throne of the Wolf, do solemnly swear to protect, defend and obey the King of the Wolf Throne, so help me the Light!"

As she was reciting the oath, Mitsuko lay on her right shoulder, at neck level. The blade flashed a deep emerald green, visible to all.

King Samson, who recited the oath, adjusting his name and titles at the right place, followed her. He was sweating profusely but the blade flashed bright green. Then came Enron, who shook so much he had to be steadied by Paschal. He too passed the Test. Then came the turn of Paschal, Sitar and Harp, followed by Dunbar and Williams.

Followed the strangest part of this entire ceremony. The she-wolf came forth and sat in front of Harold.

"She wants to be sworn in too, Dad," said, discreetly, Paschal. So the ceremony continued with the Milk Nanny, Blackie and Cleopatra, and the six pups. Everything went perfectly, to the amazement of the observers!

Things began to sour when the turn came for what was left of the archdukes began to get ready for the swearing-in. The first one in line was Archduke Ferdinand of Vicksburg. He tried to throw a dagger at Harold, but Paschal had smelled his treason and was ready. As soon as the blade left the archduke's tunic, Paschal threw his own and nailed the hand of the archduke to his own body.

"Funny how blue blood tastes the same as common blood according to the blade of my poniard," commented, ironic, Paschal.

"And archduke Ferdinand did in his trousers!" piped up Harp.

"Ah, well, push away nature and it comes riding back at full gallop at the first chance!" added Sitar.

"You have no right to treat me so in public, princelings! You have insulted my honour!"

"Your honour, archduke Ferdinand, is leaking!" replied in a cold tone, Enron. "And, no, not from your hand, from your behind!"

Turning to a man wearing black surcoat, and welding a double-edged axe, Enron ordered, in a loud voice: "Executioner, do your duty to the Crown!"

The man came forward, and receiving a nod from Samson, swiftly took a swing, and before the archduke could even do a move to evade the axe, his head flew backward, as the blood spewed from the body onto the darkening carpet.

"Executioner, could you recover my blade please?" asked Paschal. "It might be of use for others with similar ideas! It's taken a liking to blue blood lately! First came Baron Volta, a few archdukes, dukes and barons earlier today, and now Archduke Ferdinand. It might spurn orc blood later!"

The executioner quickly retrieved Paschal's poniard and used the archduke's pourpoint⁴³⁴³ ("Pourpoint: linen with cushioning fillings used to protect the body against armour or rougher tissues, such as a tunic made of leather.") to clean up the blade thoroughly, before handling it back to Paschal, handle first.

"Here is your blade, Prince Paschal. Lucky he is not wearing braies⁴⁴⁴⁴ ("Braies: Short pants, tied to the waist with a drawstring, whose ends slipped in the hose.") and hoses⁴⁵⁴⁵ ("Hoses: tight socks."), or it would have been a lot messier!"

"I agree, it is smelly enough as it is. Seat him with the other idiots, and spike his head," ordered Sitar. No one contested the decision, and the body of the archduke was tied to his seat, minus a head.

***

A man stood up and stepping forward, looked at King Samson.

"I heard this child mention Baron Volta, and, from what I understand, you are harbouring under your roof the blade that killed him, albeit I cannot imagine a youngling do so to your cousin. Would you explain yourself?"

King Samson's eyes narrowed and if looks could kill, the man would have died right then. "First, would you mind identifying yourself, so I know who to call on later, when I decide to practice my own blade?"

"I am Duke Volant of York. I inherited the duchy from my dad last winter solstice, after Duke Roland of York died of a long illness, pneumonia, I was told by the healers of the court."

"Ah, that is why I did not recognize you. Last time I saw you, you were learning to use the pot and showed your marksmanship by aiming pee in it! Did it improve?"

The court erupted in laughter. Volant's youthful exhibitionism was a constant cause of jokes in all courts across the kingdom.

"Yes it did; however, I must admit my dad's assessment of your senility was under the truth!"

"Well said, young man, I brought this upon myself. I shall reply to your question. My cousin Baron Volta, tried to take me hostage at knife point, but this child, as you say, disposed of him cleanly by throwing his blade at his neck, mere inches from mine, I must add. As for his seedling, Baronet Victor, after betraying my son to the orcs, and stealing the Seal of Recognition for his dad, he tried to stop Enron from returning; and when his dad tried to dispose of my person, King Harold disposed of the son as his disposed of the baron. I was too shocked to be afraid Volant, but when I think back on the events, my knees begin to shake. It was a masterful cleanup job; and done so fast I didn't have the time to blink. My cousin's body as well as his son's are now resting in the old latrine, where they joined their kindred. I just hope the worms won't get poisoned, they do not deserve that given the services they are rendering to the Crown!"

"I now understand why Baron Volta's seats were left unoccupied, although his colours were present. I also noticed a few others, well quite a few others, whose seats are empty."

"May I, dad?"

"Yes, Enron, please inform this assembly of the reasons for the empty seats."

"Duke of York, there are three causes for absences: the first is direct attempt at treason against the court, as evidenced by Baron Volta's and his heir's demise; the second cause is the profusion of poisonings and murders done while the court waited for this meeting to begin; mind you, we disposed of the most obstinate ourselves, but we also saw a serious thinning of ranks as the most dangerous and perfidious disposed of the dimwits; and third, there are some that never did make it to the meeting in the first place. Now, those may have legitimate reasons for absence, but they will have to be very good to be taken into account. Contrary to what some might think, they will not escape the vow and the Test, it will only be delayed until they can face Mitsuko and its Judgement of their honour."

"What will happen to their charges?"

"As you should know, Duke, their holdings are returned to the Crown so it could dispose of them as it sees fit. Their holdings were held in trust for the Crown, and, having lost the Crown's trust, their possessions return to their rightful owner."

"Thank you for reminding me of this, Prince Enron."

***

"Prince Enron this, Prince Enron that, I have yet to see any proof this is Prince Enron!" exclaimed another man, that looked of about the same age as King Samson. "Proof must be made of claim to hold title!"

The Duke of York was taken aback by the outburst, as he had not yet released the floor. Turning around to see who was the impertinent person, he looked at him in the eyes, "Archduke Franz of Sophia, I see that you have aged but not learned how to behave in an assembly! I have yet to release the floor for further interventions. Please refrain from any other disturbances, or I shall hold you accountable to the blade of my ancestors, for I shall call you to the Judgement of Arms. We would see if your honour is as loud as your mouth!"

"You will not need to do so, Duke," said, in an icy voice, Harold, "for I do. I promised to uphold Prince Enron's claim to the Throne of Nature, and the doubt raised by the archduke as to his legitimacy is sufficient for me to invoke my right of precedence! I, King Harold of the Throne of the Wolf, invoke the Judgement of Arms against Archduke Franz of Sophia for having put in doubt the claim of legitimacy of Prince Enron, who is under the protection of my Crown! Let the Judgement be held this instant, this place, so no further individual may contest Enron's right to the title of Prince and Heir to the Throne of Nature! Mark the circles, bring the sand!"

The archduke had cornered himself into this and could not back off without losing face. He chose the sword to fight King Harold, for the archduke was known as the finest blade of the Kingdom. As the bloodied carpet was removed, to be replaced by a circle of white quartz rocks marking the edges of the circles, sand was quarried at the sand pit and brought to the courtroom to be laid on the ground in a thick layer and raked flat. Harold produced his blade of Companionship, while the archduke produced the blade of Honour that was one of the status symbol associated with being a Lord of the Realm. As for the combat between Harp and Albert the Snake, both combatants stripped completely, and received their weapons from their respective witnesses. Archduke Abelard of Ultrech stood as witness for archduke Franz of Sophia, ready to offer his blade should Franz break or lose his during the battle. King Samson stood witness for King Harold, ready to offer the Royal blade should Harold need it.

Harold did some warm-ups to the ribbing of his opponent, before stepping into the small circle to receive his blade from King Samson, who was smiling. "Remember, Harold, do me a favour, slice him thinner than a piece of bread. That fool has been, along with a few others, a thorn in my side for too long."

"Do not worry, Samson, he is way too confident; he did not even warm up, and will feel cramps and muscle pains at the first engagement."

At the opposite side, archduke Abelard spoke softly to his ally: "Franz, beware, this King is an unknown quantity, and if the rumours are even slightly true, you will have to win fast or he will dice you. Attack, and attack the moment he steps in."

"Have I ever lost?"

"No, but there is always a first time!"

"Not to worry, humans are notoriously slow and fight like they are stuck in tar. I shall dispose of this king of comedy faster then you can say your own name." With that, Franz took the sword from his witness and got ready for the signal.

A minute of silence passed before the horns were heard and both men stepped in the circle. Archduke Franz held true to his plan and charged King Harold like a bull charges a red cloak.

Harold pared the incoming blade, and evaded the attack easily. He turned on himself quickly as the archduke, carried by his charge, passed by him and gave the archduke a nice resounding slap on the buttocks using the side of the blade, sending the archduke flying on his belly in the sand, and leaving a deep, wide red mark across the ass cheeks.

"That was for calling me names earlier, and will stand for all the spankings your mother missed giving you when you were an impertinent brat, archduke!"

The archduke stood up, fury and madness apparent in his eyes, as the pain from the slap registered to his brain, and the humiliation got to him.

The archduke came again to the charge, but at a more sedate pace. Harold pared, evaded and further showed his superior swordsmanship. The Archduke was beginning to feel the heat, his heart was pacing rapidly, and the sweat was falling in his eyes, troubling his vision.

"Can't you hold still, swine? You seem to run away from my just blade!"

"You are sorely mistaken, archduke, I have barely moved from the center of the ring. You, on the other hand, seem to be trying to find the exit! All these footprints are yours. I have dug myself a cozy pair of foot holes in the sand and have not moved from them since the battle began."

The archduke was in no condition to reason, and dismissed the tip and offers to recuperate and take a breather. Instead he began blindly trying to pierce the steel wall Harold's blade offered. After ten minutes of efforts, Franz had to back off; he was breathing like a forge's blower, sweating profusely.

"I am feeling cold, archduke, this hall is drafty! Would you like some tea to warm up?" asked, ironic, Harold.

The glazed look in the archduke's eyes showed he had lost all reasons. He came back to attack, but this time Harold decided to bleed the pig. As the archduke charged and charged again, the tip of Harold's sword would lightly scratch the skin, striating it with thin lines that started to bleed.

"I thought you would bleed blue, archduke. For now, all I see is leaking rust! Maybe it's stored, precious, deeper?"

The archduke redoubled his efforts, oblivious to the mounting pain, the burning sensations that racked his body, too furious to notice his efforts were disorganized and growing weaker.

Finally growing tired of the game, Harold began a series of moves with the side of his sword, giving the archduke the spanking of his life, first hitting the upper back then the torso, in a quick alternating movement, as he progressed downwards, imprisoning the archduke in a cage of steel battering his body. Finally, the pain grew too much for the archduke and his heart gave. The release of his bowels and the fountain of pee that left his body as he collapsed to the arena's sand floor announced the moment of death.

***

In the silence that followed the archduke's fall, a single clear note could be heard filling the room. The blade was vibrating from the repeated impacts and seemed to sing to Harold's victory.

Someone, deep behind in the crowd, exclaimed:

"The Singing Sword! The Sword of Legends that predate even Mitsuko, the Sword of Light! Excalibur! The sword of King Arthur!"

All over the court could be heard exclamations of "Excalibur!" or "King Arthur's Sword is back amongst us!"

Harold, still holding the hilt of the blade, could actually feel the vibrations travel along his arms to the upper torso and finally to his ears, so he heard the music on two registry, the clear notes from the sword and the deeper, slightly delayed music coming from the sword through his body.

Finally, the sword calmed down and Harold cleansed the tip in the arena sand, before inserting it back in its scabbard and laying it, sheathed, besides Mitsuko, who was glowing brightly, as if it recognized a sister. Harold received a hot tea to warm up, and fresh clothes from his staff, before returning to the Throne of the Wolf for the resumption of the ceremony.

***

"Harold, you deceive me," commented Annabelle. "You never told me this was Excalibur!"

"But, Annabelle, it can not be! I made it myself, this is my sword of Companionship, the work that earned me the title of Companion of the Iron Cross!"

"What? You made this blade?" exclaimed Samson, loud enough that everyone in the court heard him. Everyone immediately became silent, eager to hear the developing story.

"Well, yes, it is the blade that earned me the right to carry the Iron Cross and the title of Companion of the Ironsmith and weapons smith."

A tall elf came forward towards the Thrones, and kneed in front of Harold.

"Your Majesty, may I examine the blade please?"

"Sure, but who are you?"

"First, let me see the blade, your Majesty, and I shall reveal my identity as soon as I am done."

"Fine. Here, take it."

The elf first examined the scabbard on all sides and in all aspects.

"This is a very fine scabbard, the best work I have laid my eyes on in my entire life. Did you make it?"

"Yes, I did. I killed a fawn, skinned it, and used the best ingredients I could find to treat the skin so it could be both soft, and highly resistant. I sewed the flaps together using a fine thread of an alloy of gold and steel, so it would never rust. I also used the same method to create the satchel that protects the hilt. After all this blade is supposed to be my first work, and I wanted it to be remembered, if it was to be my last."

The elf had removed the blade from its protection, examining the finely worked handle first, then the guard, and finally the blade itself. He noticed strange symbols at the base of the blade, near the guard. Finely outlined were these letters:

Excalibur in Greek

"Why did you write these letters on the blade, King Harold?" wanted to know the mysterious elf.

"I felt an urge, a need to do so, and I found the result called to me."

"Do you know what these letters mean?"

"They spell the name of the blade, that much I know."

"This script, King Harold, is in a dead, ancient language, called Greek. They spell the word Excalibur⁴⁶⁴⁶ ("If you don't believe me, look on the Internet! See this <a href=\"http:\/\/www.babylon.com\/definition\/Excalibur\/Greek\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">link<\/a>."). Many mysteries remain, King Harold, but clearly, the Masters misjudged your work, probably because they did not even fathom the depth of its quality. This blade is comparable, no surpasses, in workmanship the best a great grand sword master could ever dream to achieve at the peak of his art."

"I am totally lost. How could I have done this?"

"The blade disappeared at the death of King Arthur. I have little knowledge of it, but maybe, some of the others might know more. King Harold, I am a member of the Great Council of the Order of the Light, the secret order that supervises the Mages, magicians, sorcerers and other users of magic. May I sit down to continue the explanations? My legs aren't what they used to be."

"Certainly. Bring a chair to my guest!" ordered Harold, fascinated by the story. "And bring us juices, unless you would prefer beer, ale, wine or water?"

"Juice will be fine. I have been on water long enough."

"Please continue your story. I did not catch your name?"

"Simply because I did not tell you my name yet, King Harold. I am Marlin, great grandson, so far removed of Merlin that we lost count, the mage that saw to King Arthur. I have been drawn to this place from very far, because, for a reason as yet unknown, a vast amount of magic has been used and it resonates in the fabric of magic space. The Order has sent me to investigate the disturbance, which started to resonate some three years ago, quite far from here, actually, and I've been trying to follow its movements as I converged on it. It is only recently that it has stayed at the same place long enough for me to catch up with it. Furthermore, as time passed, the intensity of the disturbance has been increasing almost exponentially. When did you start creating Excalibur, King Harold?"

"Let me think, that would have been three years at the spring solstice. I actually began collecting and doing some tests at the winter equinox prior, and finally began work in earnest the following spring."

"This would match, King Harold. It took time for the matrix to resonate with enough regularity and force to attract our attention, and then some time for the Order to convene, and order me to investigate."

"How long have you been with us?" asked Paschal.

"If you are asking my age, it is irrelevant. If you are asking how long I have been in this village, I just arrived to witness the fight, and the Revealing."

"So, you have not yet taken a bath, rested nor restored yourself properly," commented Harp. "Would you like to do so? We can continue this conversation later tonight, after the Oaths of Fealty have been sworn by what is left of blue blood in this kingdom."

"Yes, I would like so. I have been sleeping in trees for the past three days. There are so many wolves around here I am surprised I did not have to walk on water to reach this place intact."

"Please follow the escort we will supply you with. Greywolf, give this man proper escort due to a high dignitary," asked Harp.

The elf was totally taken by surprise to be escorted by six wolves boxing him in, and leading him first to the bath, then to a sumptuous meal, and finally to a cart marked with the Healers' Seal, where he found a Healer waiting for him and a very comfortable bed.

"Sir, please get a wolf's attention if you need something. One of the wolf will come and get me immediately."

"Thank you so much. Could you explain something to me? I am a bit shaken by the number of wolves around here. What is this all about?"

"Oh, this is a consequence of Harold, King of the Wolf Throne, being amongst us. Haven't you heard? The Day of Dawning has passed last equinox! He is the bearer of the Sword of the Light."

"And he recreated Excalibur, the sword of King Arthur! This really surpasses my competences and mandate. Please make sure I will not be disturbed for the next eight hours, Healer. I need to rest before entering into the telepathic trance."

"Telepathic trance?"

"Yes, the ability to communicate without speech!"

"Ah, so that is what Harold and the four boys do with the wolves! But they do not seem to need a trance."

"What? They WHAT?"

"They communicate with the wolves. I would say it goes further, I think any canine is able to talk to them and them to it, whatever the distance!"

A visibly shaken mage sat on the bed. "And they get tired after that?"

"Not that I have noticed. It seems to come naturally to them."

"Well, thank you for the heads up. I will ask Harold for permission to communicate with my Order tomorrow. I would not want to offend him by talking behind his back," and be caught by listening minds in a private conversation with the Order, he thought to himself.

"Just a word of caution, sir, the canines are very protective of the Royal family, and could misjudge your intentions should you come barging in on any of its members. Also, do not discount the boys, especially the little one, Harp. I saw him dispose of Albert the Snake in the Circle of Judgement, and the man, a viper at poniard battle, never saw it coming. I saw the boys train for battle, and I now fully understand why Albert lost. He stood no chance whatsoever, he would have reduced his pains had he simply thrust his own knife in his heart."

"Thank you for your advice, Healer. I shall act accordingly."

"There is a pitcher of fresh, cool water near the bed rest. A couple of wolves will stay in the cart with you. Fear not, I am sure they were sent here to guard and protect you, should anything unwarranted occur."

***

The ceremony of fealty resumed where it had stopped, without further incident, well almost. Another twenty-four needed a new haircut, but that was not bad, considering, as King Samson explained to Harold, that these thick of the mind probably did not know the difference between their left and right shoe. It had weeded out the most congenital idiots, and that was a bonus.

By nones, the last noble had been sworn, and Harold called for an interruption of an hour to refresh himself and his entourage.

The next phase of the ceremony called those working in close contact with the royals to swear fealty. Since there were obviously way too many people for each individual to be sworn in, a group method was devised. Each service, from the stable boys to the guards, was invited in turn to recite with their chief of services the Oath of fealty. A few died, stricken to death by a ruby-red light emanating from Mitsuko, but most passed the Ordeal successfully. By vespers, the process was done, and the surviving nobility were invited to a ball for the evening, to be held in the same hall, which they were in presently. Everyone was also required to leave while the area got cleansed of any traces of the events of the day; the banquet tables set, and readied for the supper preceding the ball.

The royals retired to Harold's cart, which everyone found cosier than the palace. Even Samson found the cart more comforting than his royal apartments. It had this homey feel, which lacked in the royal suite.

The events of this momentous day were discussed, but only lightly. Everyone felt the need to distance themselves from them, and to reflect on what had happened in the intimacy of their own thoughts. Even the wolves lay still, and Ian, fed by the Milk Nanny, seemed content to sleep with his head on her belly, protected by her paws and thick, bushy tail.

The boys lay on a pile of cushions, a mass of legs and arms sticking out in all direction, their impressive collection of weapons within reach or just below a cushion or two. They, as well as the other royals, were encircled by a wall of wolves sleeping in a ring, under the watchful eyes of Greywolf. Outside the cart were a combination of elves, legionnaires, and wolf guards so dense a mouse would have triggered a world war.

The rest seemed to have only begun when a loud growl was heard from the pile of boys.

"Don't tell me you are hungry again, Harp?"

"Yes, Enron. When is diner due?"

As if on cue, the voice of King Harold's herald was heard asking a legionnaire to notify the royals that supper was ready.

"I wonder if you have a clock in that tummy of yours," commented Annabelle.

"No, mom, he got a wolf's nose. We can smell the food from here!" replied Paschal.

"And what else?"

"Hearing that can make us hear your heartbeat from twenty paces, and night vision that makes the moon blinding."

"Anything else?"

"Not that we are aware of, mom. But who knows, maybe we will find other aspects of our change as we grow older."

"Yes! Ian needs a change!" piped Harp. "Are babies all like that?"

"What do you mean, Harp?"

"A pair of powerful lungs tied to a food-to-crap conversion unit?"

Everyone found the description hilarious, and Annabelle commented, "You were like that too, you know!"

"I was?"

"Well before becoming who you are, you were a baby before!"

"I don't remember?"

"Maybe it's better you do not, sometimes babies do things which would embarrass you to no end!"

"They do? Like what?"

"Like pee on their mom while they get changed. This happens regularly with Ian."

"The poor nanny!"

"It seems she doesn't mind. Especially since it's me that does the changing!"

"OK. I am still hungry, enough baby talk!"

The royals left the cart, leaving Ian under close watch of a pack of wolves and the Milk Nanny.

***

The ensuing banquet went well. The royals were more formally introduced to the surviving nobility, and the nobles gradually felt less anxious when their eyes met a wolf, or a dog for that matter, patrolling the banquet hall. What totally surprised them was the staunch refusal by all canines of any bits of food or anything to drink. The pups' discipline amazed them, and the apparent ability of the members of the Wolf Throne family to communicate with them just kept them wide-mouthed, when they were not masticating their food that is. Even Enron seemed to be able to do this, and apparently, just about everyone in the King's entourage.

The Duke of York commented to a young baron about this in these terms:

"I did not know that the royals of the Throne of Nature had the ability to communicate with the wolves. Did you know about it?"

"No, Duke, I have visited frequently King Samson's court, and as far as I know, neither the King nor the Prince showed any such quality. In fact, I am astounded at the Prince himself. If it were not for the endorsement by the King of the Wolves, and a clear resemblance to the weakling I remember Prince Enron as, I would still have lingering doubts as to his true identity. But it would be foolish of me to discard what my own eyes see now in favour of previous information."

"Yes, this is the portrait my dad gave of the Prince. I had put it on wishful thinking, but now that you mention it, there seems to be another mystery here."

Harp, whose fine wolfish hearing had let him follow the conversation from across the room, asked his brothers what to do. Enron told him to go see the two and explain his healing at the touch of Mitsuko. So Harp stood up and crossed the entire hall, watched by the duke and the baron, who seemed to have sensed he was coming to see them from the other end of the hall.

The boy looked at the two men and said, matter-of-factly, "I can answer your questions about Enron."

"Questions? What questions?" asked, puzzled, the Duke of York.

"I heard you wonder about his health, or rather his miraculous recovery."

"You heard? From the other end of the hall?" questioned the Baron, wide-eyed.

"Yes, I heard. You were quite loud!"

"But we whispered to each other!" replied the Duke, totally baffled.

"Nonetheless, your whispers were loud enough for me, and for that matter, for all the royals to hear. I was elected to explain things to you."

"Elected? But the royals are at all corners of the Hall!" the baron countered.

"It remains I got selected to answer your questions. Are you ready to hear them?"

The two men exchanged frightened glances.

"Don't worry, I won't eat you, not yet, that is! As long as King Samson can fill in my bottomless pit, as he calls my tummy, you are safe!"

The two nobles gulped and nodded to Harp, whiter than freshly washed linen.

"Prince Enron was rescued from orcs. What you do not know is that the rescue was done by my dad, King Harold, a decade or two of legionnaires, under Centurion Yamato, commander of the cavalry. Enron had been under torture for no one knows how long, and was on the verge of death when dad found him. He used Mitsuko to heal the wounds, but emotional abuse had done more than what a simple blade could repair. It took our combined efforts, mom, dad, Paschal, Sitar, the pups and me, to rescue him from the depth of despair he had fallen into. Given your culture and how it sees weaklings, I understand why he did not want to live for he had no hope. We gave him hope, and a loving environment to thrive. You see the result today. Even King Samson was shocked by the change that happened to his son under our tutelage."

"This is an amazing story, Prince Harp. Since you promised to answer our questions, may I ask another?"

"You just did!" replied Harp smiling.

"Indeed. How come you speak our language so fluently? We hear you speak that other language we have problem following, but you seem to know our language as if you were a native. You speak with the inflections of royalty, the richness of vocabulary of a high prince, but we hear you are only four," wondered the Duke of York.

"Age has no meaning for the Royal Family of the Wolf Throne. I am four, and yet more then four." «No need to tell them how closely bounded we are,»[bootbox_start]"Bracketed texts &laquo;like this&raquo; are telepathic exchanges."[bootbox_start]"Bracketed texts &laquo;like this&raquo; are telepathic exchanges." ("Bracketed texts &laquo;like this&raquo; are telepathic exchanges.")[bootbox_end] reminded Sitar, «the less they know about that the better.» Blinking at the two men, Harp thought back to Sitar: «Satisfied with the answer?» That got him a hug and a couple of giggles.

The smiles on the boys' face did not escape Dunbar, who looked at Enron, sitting close to him. A low whisper from Enron got him to par with the mystification, and Dunbar quickly updated the Kings, Annabelle and Williams about it. A thumb up to Sitar from Harold was relayed to the quartet.

***

After the buffet came the ball, with Queen Annabelle and King Harold taking first dance, along with King Samson and the Master Healer, Francesca dancing together. Enron, Harp, Paschal and Sitar formed an impromptu quartet, and supplied the music. It became apparent to those that knew the boys that musical talent seemed to have propagated from each boy to the other, since they seemed to play seamlessly.

As another dance finished, Sitar asked for the dancers to leave the floor for a bit; everyone was surprised, but did as asked. A few minutes later about a hundred wolves took the floor, and a strange tempo, which reminded the listeners of a feeling of fear as prey, but of joy as hunter, was heard.

"Welcome to the dance of the Wolves Hunting!" clamoured the unmistakable voice of Harp.

Everyone watched, fascinated by the delicacy of the dance, as first the hunters made their moves, then the prey, and again the hunters. This alternated until finally, the hunters had killed a prey, while the rest made good their escape. There was no need to tell what was going on, as everyone recognized the crouching approach of a hunting wolf, the bouncing of a rabbit, the mad jump of attack, the run and jump of a panicked antelope, the cornering of a buffalo, or their typical defence in circles of youngsters. Also recognisable were the jumps to break the ice on a snow bank to reach the dens and tunnels of rodents, or the furious digging of a burrow to reach the intended nest. As the dance came to an end, the column of wolves left in line, heads up, clearly indicating a successful hunt.

The room erupted in applause. The meaning of the racket was forwarded to the wolves, which returned to the center and bowed to their public, to even more applauses. Then they left the hall to return to their guard duty.

"I just witnessed another miracle," noted the Duke of York. "I wonder how many more I can stand before going nuts."

"Are you sure you aren't nuts already?" replied the baron, sitting by him. "I feel nuts to believe my eyes!"

As the wolf dancers were leaving the hall, the Mage returned, accompanied by his wolf escort, and led to the thrones.

"I heard a lot of noise as I was headed this way, applauses that would have shamed Thor, the God of Thunder. What was all the applause about?"

"Oh, you just missed one of the most extraordinary thing I have ever witnessed," exclaimed the Duke of York as the mage passed at his level. "Prince Sitar introduced us to a dance named the Wolves Hunting, and it was the wolves themselves that performed it. I am still elated and chilled by it. I could feel the blood lust of the hunters, the fear of the preys. I could read the meaning of every single move, like I was the animal involved. We have lost a lot by distancing ourselves from our true selves, I think. The natural grace the wolves exhibited here tonight will make watching the finest Elven dancers dull."

"Why is it I always miss all the fun?"

"Maybe it's your karma?" asked, impudent, the baron.

"Maybe, but yours may be to spend some time as a rabbit?"

"Maybe, if I could be sure to end up in your crock pot! Given my past diet, I can guarantee you a good poisoning!"

The exchange brought hilarity from the survivors of the previous epidemic of poisoning, and a few cringes from those that barely escaped with their lives.

"While we wait for the next part of the evening, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to make an announcement, stated King Samson. This brought immediate silence to the room.

"In honour of the Day of Dawning and of the binding of my Crown to the Crown of the Wolf by the vow of fealty, I decided to organize a joust, to be held in a week's time. I know that all of your bests are camped just out of sight of my walls, and that this is more then enough time to get the best of your bests here for the tourney. I have asked King Harold to let pass one messenger for each camp, which will carry an invite for three of your bests, but no more than three. The messenger will be escorted by two wolves, This is to ensure that, first, he gets to his destination, and second that he comes back with exactly the assigned number of jousters. The messengers will leave at prime, tomorrow morning. You have allies that got beheaded today. Please forward a message under your seal to these allies' camps, and explain to them it is the occasion for them to re-establish their tarnished honour by abiding by these rules."

The room erupted in another bout of intense applause. Jousting was one of the favourite sports of the day, fitting perfectly to the thirst of blood that seems to animate every aristocracy, be it human or elven.

"Let the dances resume!" ordered Annabelle.

***

The mage made his way to the first step of the throne and asked if he could approach Harold, mindful of the Healers' warning.

"Yes, Mage, we even left your chair where it was from the last meeting. Please be seated."

"I deeply regret missing the wolves' dance. It must have been quite impressive to move a young blasé like the Duke of York. The last time I saw him, I think the Moon would have fallen and he would not even have noticed."

"You know him?"

"Yes, I passed at his dad's court on my way east, and the old man was as petulant as a bull frog trying to pass for an elephant. The youngster seems to have forgotten me, as befits a negligible quantity in his eyes. I do not mind, going unnoticed has its advantages."

"I can understand that, all this flourish is getting on my nerves!"

"King Harold, I must communicate to my Order the findings I have made so far. May I have your permission?"

"Why do you ask my permission? A homing pigeon could be let go at dawn and I would not be the wiser!"

"First, I do not have homing pigeons at my disposal. Second, I have learned that your lineage, and indeed, the lineage of King Samson, has powerful telepaths. From what I have learned, your powers are such that you do not even need to focus and enter a trance to communicate with the wolves or between each other. I have not felt any intrusion from any of your court into my mind; a situation for which I am immensely grateful, for I doubt my meagre defences would resist an attack from such powerful users of the Force. I also am relieved that you work for the Light, because this puts us on the same side of the battlefield."

Harold looked at Annabelle, Dunbar, and Samson, as he watched the four boys come to the throne from behind the Mage. Marlin watched the eyes of the king travel and felt a shock. He was sure the king was exchanging telepathic information with the Royals! Yet, it was so focussed he couldn't hear it, even at close range! His suspicions were confirmed when Sitar, walking up the stairs, offered to answer for his dad. The simple blink that Harold gave before Sitar started talking confirmed it to him beyond any doubts whatsoever. These were the ultimate telepaths, those that could focus a thought to a narrow beam only detectable by the intended target of the communication! Furthermore, Dunbar was part of the group! Was Williams too? Yes! Here he was, coming purposefully towards the Thrones! Mage Marlin was on the verge of panic. Here was concentrated, in this room the most powerful of all magic, welded together by a bond he couldn't even understand, much less fathom the strength. And what now? That huge grey wolf, the captain of the canine guards was making his way towards the throne, regally, step after step! He felt like a prey!

"You need not worry," started Harp. "Greywolf is reporting the change of the guard, and that there were skirmishes with orcs about two hundred miles away, not that we do not know about them already. If it pleases him to report to us personally, why should we deprive him of his fun?"

Greywolf came to the king, sat and bent his head to the left.

After a few minutes, Harold said thank you to the wolf captain, and Greywolf retired, as regally as he had come, to the amazement of the mage. Although he saw Harp hold the King's hand, he saw nothing more than a mark of love; never did he consider this was how the message from the wolf to the king passed, Harp acting as conduit.

«Father, you need not worry, we sense your capacity increasing,» forwarded Harp to his dad. The smile the two exchanged reinforced the mage's impression.

"Now, back to your needs, Mage Marlin? You were saying?"

"I think that Mage Marlin is worried about how you would interpret his attempt at communicating with his Order, dad," piped Paschal.

Has he been reading in my mind? But I felt nothing! The worried mage looked at the young prince, stunned.

"I see, and you are afraid we would spy on your talk with your Order, is that it?" enquired Samson.

That was it! Definitely it! Not only can they talk to each other, but they read us like open books! The mage bleached visibly, and after a considerable effort to control his voice, answered to Samson.

"Yes, I will use telepathy, the same as you do to control your wolves and talk to each other, but I have far less control and power than you have. I have seen the focussed transmissions, which I could not even hear a whisper of, and you seem to do it with such ease while it takes me an hour of intense concentration and deep relaxation to even be able to send brief messages to my Order and listen to their replies. I get out of these exchanged so tired I need a couple of days to recover, and yet you do it constantly, every minute, like you breath! I do not wish to offend you, Lords. So I ask permission to send my report to the Order. Your strength and power is so strong and focussed I cannot even detect it, and I am sitting right besides you. I cannot hide even my most intimate thoughts from you, and you certainly sense how distressed this puts me in. You hide your powers well, and for this I am both grateful and shocked. What if you had been of the Dark? None of us would have stood a chance!"

"I understand your fears," commented Annabelle. "Rest and ready yourself for your ordeal, Mage Marlin, we will not begrudge you of the contents of the report you will send to your Order."

"We will hear it, for sure, and follow the exchange with interest," added Harp, "but I think we can trust you to be honest and exhaustive in this exchange. Please retire to the Healers' cart. No one will disturb you. Greywolf will see to your escort."

The Mage returned, again escorted by wolves, to the healer's cart.

"Why have we left this charade continue?" asked Harold at Sitar.

«Are you sure it is a charade, dad,» replied Sitar, silently. And, for the first time, Harold, Samson, Annabelle, Dunbar and Williams heard the reply from Sitar directly in their mind.