"Sir witcher we have brought-" The guard's words froze in his throat. They seemed to elevate themselves from sound, to material things and swiftly became lodged in his windpipe. He hurriedly brought his hand to his throat, with a decidedly pained expression, and rubbed the afflicted area. After a few moments his coughing and hacking subsided and he regained the ability to speak.
"Honourable witcher, you-you have brought back duke Percivald!" The guard exclaimed. His features were contorted from sheer astonishment. The faces of the other few guards behind shared the same stupefied look.
The duke's breath was warm and somewhat unpleasant against my neck. Upon mention of his name his breathing suddenly quickened. His limbs seemed to be injected with fresh vitality, and they began to twitch. Then his eyes burst open, and he looked around like some panicked creature fearing a hunter's arrow.
I felt wetness against my neck. Tears were a refreshing change from putrid sewer water. I expected the duke to request me to place him down so that me might stand on his own two feet. Such an idea seemed not to occur to him, and he instead tightened his arms and legs around my neck and waist.
"Ah! Sunshine! Oh, sweet merciful sunshine, how glorious, how incredible!" He cried out tearfully.
The duke appeared utterly enamoured by the sun's light. He refused to take his eyes off of the burning orb for even a second, this continued for several times the length for which any sensible person ought to stare directly at it.
I felt quite sure that the duke had thoroughly dazzled himself and was seeing nothing more than flickering lights, for he proceeded to gesture considerably to left of the guards and shout, "You fools! Come, carry me, the foul things below the blasted grate into which I was tricked, have sapped all strength from my lower limbs! Carry me so that my saviour's burden may be lifted! At once!"
The duke commanded the soldiers furiously, offering them none of the respect they had been accustomed to as those who wore the king's emblem. Not one of them even made so much as a peep in protest. They scurried over and hastily transferred him onto the back of a broad-shoulder soldier, all whilst spilling over with flattery and profuse apologies.
"Halt! In the name of the king, you must surrender your vehicle to us at once! It shall be returned to you after the king's matters are complete!" The leader of the guard bolted forwards. His hand reached to his waist, and he drew his sword with a dramatic flourish, standing fearlessly ahead of two strong chestnut horses and an accompanying wagon and driver.
The driver looked at the sharp glinted blade. Then he looked to the other four or so soldiers, all of whom looked ready, and almost eager, to strike him with the pommels of their sword.
With incredible quickness the driver alighted from his perch. He had only a handful of teeth but he offered them all in a honeyed and flattering grin, "It is my honour to serve you noble sirs!"
The leader of the guards grunted in acknowledgement of the old wagon driver's flattery and snatched the reins. The duke was swiftly lifted into the carriage and seated amongst bushels of apples and baskets of radishes. It was fortunate that his nostrils were still too overcome by the lingering stench of excrement to smell the rather pungent stench of produce, for judging by the intensity of the scent, much of it had spoiled. The splintering wood and tips of rusted nails glinting dangerously were already far too much of an affront to his senses.
"Bah! Amongst things yanked from the earth and stuffed into this wretched insult to transportation! Such insult! Such insult!" The duke spat, angrily inspecting the carriage's interior as if hoping to find some pearl or silk that might soothe his mind. He found none of such things.
The irate nobleman turned to me, or at least the space a few feet to the left of me, it seemed his sight had not yet properly recovered. When he spoke, it was as if he were a being incapable of anger of outrage, his voice was as mellow and soft as butter, "Oh sir witcher, you must protect me, I beg of you! Please, accompany me to Ekkehard's palace so that you might tell him of the horrors I have faced!
Anger suddenly possessed him once more. He hissed and glared at the soldiers seated on either side of him, "Oh I will snatch the damned gemstones from his polished crown! To be pushed like some circus freak into a stinking sewer grate by some incorrigible and wretched street urchins, oh the insult! The insult!"
The soldier's kept their gazes trained fixatedly on the floor. Their fear leaked out by the increasing paleness of their faces and trembling of their hands. From outside the carriage, in which I had now seated myself across from the alternatingly angelic and devilish duke, I heard the crack of a whip.
The leader of the guards drove with frenzied hurriedness. Amidst the rumble of the wheels, his furious voice could be heard roaring at people to move out of the way. The tactic proved quite effective as our speed barely slowed throughout the journey.
The duke's eyes were closed, but he was anything but peaceful. Curses and insults buzzed around him like hornets, his vocabulary was far-reaching and at points his furious tirade was almost poetic.
"A chair! A chair for his lordship the duke!" The leader of the guard bellowed. Gravel flew and the horses whinnied and stamped their hooves as we came to a harsh and forceful stop.
A somewhat puzzled looking young man in servant's attire drew open the curtains to the wagon. He first looked at me. Then a soldier. And another. Then his attention landed on the duke. For a moment he stood, blinking dumbly. Then his eyes bulged to such an extent that they would put a trout to shame.
He spun like a pinwheel and his head snapped violently to face the other direction, he did not call out, but rather shriek, his voice more like that of a little girl's than a man's, "A chair! A chair for his lordship the duke!"
What followed was a flurry of footsteps and a swarm of people, all of them clad in the same servile clothing. They were clumsy in their work, but the sheer number of them compensated for their nervous blunders. The duke was soon seated in a sedan chair, carried by not two but four servants. He clutched the silks and cushions of the sedan close against his chest and sighed with relief.
I found myself being hurriedly led through the same hallways I had exited from not long ago. The duke's frequent and furious insults ensured that the pace did not slow. The sedan bearers were panting and sweating like pigs, but with gritted teeth and determined expressions they pushed on.
Soon we arrived at the grand doors of the main hall. A particularly nimble servant boy had raced ahead and managed to pass on the message ahead of us. I had heard him doing so and his explanation was unimaginably frantic, but it fulfilled its purpose. The hastily opened doors provided ample view of the king and his many ministers. The latter of which were squawking noisily as if a fox had forced its way into their henhouse. As the first sedan bearer stepped over the threshold and into the hall, the hens fell abruptly silent.
"Percival, old friend, I have sent a company of my finest men to right this terrible wrong! They will bring you those wretched orphans so that you might strike their arses till the cheeks are a scalding red!" Ekkehard declared in a booming voice, rising from his throne. He walked like a soldier, long and powerful strides that carried him swiftly on. He rushed to to the sedan, ignoring the wheezing bearers and throwing the door open.
The duke immediately exploded into a barrage of curses, all of which had been carefully and meticulously prepared on the journey, "Ekkehard you tottering old fool! You tell your men this instant to bring not just those rats, but their mothers and fathers too and hell you ought to bring their grandmothers and grandfathers also! I don't care if you need to drag them along their blind-old arses you get them here so I might add a few fresh sores to their behinds!
All that coin I bring you! All the gems and harvests I devote to you! Melitele knows I have worked dutifully for you! And this? This is how I am to be repaid? To find a quiet alley to relieve oneself is such a crime that it deserves banishment to the sewers? That wretched orphan ought to have moved out the bleedin' way once he saw me opening my breeches, hiding there amongst the dirt and leaves! The cunning bastard! Bah!"
The king helped the furious and raving duke out of the sedan and seated him on a spectacularly well-cushioned armchair. Wine gurgled and a cup of fragrant red was poured for the dule. The king then set the amphora back down on the table.
The aroma of wine, good wine, without doubt a rare and celebrated vintage, made the duke's scowl twitch slightly. Slowly and somewhat reluctantly, as if embroiled in profound eternal conflict he leaned closer to the cup. He took a deep sniff. It seemed that the bumping of the carriage had cleared his sinuses well enough to allow for the enjoyment of new smells. Ones that did not make bile rise in the throat and cause the eyes to water.
The duke grumbled something under his breath and snatched up the cup, bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip. He paused for a moment and allowed the flavours to bloom. Then, having confirmed the excellence and rich flavours of the wine, he drank greedily. After a few moments the wine was finished, and the duke's reflection was left peering back up at him from the cup's bronze bottom.
He smacked his lips together and exhaled, rolling his eyes and vigorously massaging his left temple, "A good wine. You'd be a good clown you know, always knowing what to do to make the crowd laugh."
King Ekkehard smiled, "You flatter me old friend. Perhaps I might uncork a fresh bottle, one from before my father's time might I add, so that we might discuss the frightfulness that has taken place? It'd be sinful to leave your thirst unquenched for much longer."
The duke massaged his temple even more fiercely. The skin was quickly becoming red and inflamed. He was silent for a time. Then with a resigned and weary cry he remarked, "Ah! Very well! Let us quieten the terrors racing through my mind with wine and good cheese! If only you could have seen what I have Ekkehard, your legs would tremble as mine do!"
The duke seemed to suddenly remember my presence. Which, up until that point, had gone very much unnoticed amidst the chaotic happenings. He smiled at me lovingly and clenched his fist against his chest, "Oh Ekkehard I would've died down there! Butchered at the hands of ghouls and ghastly things! But this man, this witcher, he arrived like a knight on horseback and vanquished my evils! Melitele heard my prayers and sent me an avenger!"
The king looked at me. His gaze was deep and steady. He smiled, "The witcher's progeny, once more you astound us with your skill and bravery."
He walked to me, slowly and purposefully. From an ornate and ancient sheath at his waist, the leather of which looked to have been shaped long before his birth, he drew his sword. The blade pressed against the pauldron of my armour. First on the left side, then the right.
"For a meritorious act of bravery and mastery with the blade, rescuing a dear friend of the court, you shall henceforth be bestowed a new title! History shall record that on the seventh day of the seventh month of the year 1233, by imperial order of King Ekkehard, the world gained a chivalrous knight! All here shall offer congratulations to-"
He paused. And smiled. His blue eyes twinkled.
"Sir Jack of Sodden."