The entire castle shook from the impact of the stone crashing into the north tower. The siege army had two catapults, and Arianus, Court Astrologer of King Mancref of Pravernia expected two such tremors every three hours. He hoped the night would provide a reprieve from the noise and tumult. Every minute he could spend with his armillary sphere would prove invaluable to discerning how his prediction could have proven so drastically wrong, and more importantly, give him some insight, and some line of explanation to his sovereign for how to escape this ghastly predicament.
For months, the stars gave positive portents both for the Kingdom, and the succession of he Royal Family. King Mancref knew he hadn’t much time left, but Arianus assured him his son, Pentius, sniveling idiot though he might be, would enjoy a peaceful coronation and twenty years of peaceful rule on the throne. After that the future was muddy, but those twenty years were clear. Not only by the charts of the sun and moon, but even the normally hazy crystal ball visions were clear. Mancref had secured allegiances with all rival houses, and routed those who might pose a violent threat.
But nowhere in the star charts, divination censers, or even the offal examined by the village haruspex was this siege predicted. The invaders wore the helmets adorned with elk antlers, and leather armor fashioned from the pelts of the same beasts. They brandished great axes, swords, and vicious sickles. They rode caribou into battle, and brought with them a menagerie of vicious brown bears. Arianus looked in horror at the horde as they advanced through his spyglass. Nothing like them had ever been seen in this country, or in any other where he had studied. Their features were Eastern, but they came from the western road. He heard a guard call them Grens, and he spoke of them as if they’d been spawned in the Abyss itself.
Arianus prepared his sphere, moving it on its base of wheels toward the south window of his tower. This would give him the best view of the southern constellations, in the hope of seeing what was causing this strife. An event of this significance would usually be preceded by a shower of stars, or at least a comet of some size and majesty. But there had been nothing.
The astrologer jumped at the loud clanging of mailed fist against his wooden door.
“Arianus! Open this door, scoundrel!” King Mancref bellowed.
“Right away, my King,” Arianus called back, “allow me to make my way to the door.”
He undid the bolt, and let the King and his two armored guards into the laboratory. One of the guards gasped at the treasures and implements of sorcery that filled the chamber. No mere astrologer, Arianus practiced alchemy, divination, runecraft, and if the more sinister rumors were to be believed, foul necromancy. Arianus feline familiar Tobias hissed at the intruders.
“Quiet, Tobias,” said Arianus, “please enter, my Lord,” the astrologer bent forward in supplication to his sovereign. The king scowled at the wizard and stood with fists balled by his side.
“I should throw you into a dungeon straight away, charlatan. But I am a benevolent man,” he coughed fitfully, a normal state since the King developed consumption.
“King Mancref, I understand the situation is dire. I am consulting the fates. They have never betrayed me before. The sun is setting, and the stars will be out in short order. I will have an explanation soon. You must be patient,” Arianus pleaded.
“Do you hear the screams of my men, Arianus? You have no doubt felt the tremors!” the King was raging, “we might not last the night.”
“The fortifications will hold. I warded them myself…”
“You warded them? You’ll forgive me if I am unimpressed by your magics,” the King gestured to his guards, “stay with the wizard, if he attempts to flee cut him down. You have until morning Arianus. If the kingdom will fall, I assure you your head will fall first.”
The King slammed the door behind him. Arianus trembled as he pushed the armillary sphere into place. He stared out the window at the sunset, and begged the stars would give him an answer.
For months, the stars gave positive portents both for the Kingdom, and the succession of he Royal Family. King Mancref knew he hadn’t much time left, but Arianus assured him his son, Pentius, sniveling idiot though he might be, would enjoy a peaceful coronation and twenty years of peaceful rule on the throne. After that the future was muddy, but those twenty years were clear. Not only by the charts of the sun and moon, but even the normally hazy crystal ball visions were clear. Mancref had secured allegiances with all rival houses, and routed those who might pose a violent threat.
But nowhere in the star charts, divination censers, or even the offal examined by the village haruspex was this siege predicted. The invaders wore the helmets adorned with elk antlers, and leather armor fashioned from the pelts of the same beasts. They brandished great axes, swords, and vicious sickles. They rode caribou into battle, and brought with them a menagerie of vicious brown bears. Arianus looked in horror at the horde as they advanced through his spyglass. Nothing like them had ever been seen in this country, or in any other where he had studied. Their features were Eastern, but they came from the western road. He heard a guard call them Grens, and he spoke of them as if they’d been spawned in the Abyss itself.
Arianus prepared his sphere, moving it on its base of wheels toward the south window of his tower. This would give him the best view of the southern constellations, in the hope of seeing what was causing this strife. An event of this significance would usually be preceded by a shower of stars, or at least a comet of some size and majesty. But there had been nothing.
The astrologer jumped at the loud clanging of mailed fist against his wooden door.
“Arianus! Open this door, scoundrel!” King Mancref bellowed.
“Right away, my King,” Arianus called back, “allow me to make my way to the door.”
He undid the bolt, and let the King and his two armored guards into the laboratory. One of the guards gasped at the treasures and implements of sorcery that filled the chamber. No mere astrologer, Arianus practiced alchemy, divination, runecraft, and if the more sinister rumors were to be believed, foul necromancy. Arianus feline familiar Tobias hissed at the intruders.
“Quiet, Tobias,” said Arianus, “please enter, my Lord,” the astrologer bent forward in supplication to his sovereign. The king scowled at the wizard and stood with fists balled by his side.
“I should throw you into a dungeon straight away, charlatan. But I am a benevolent man,” he coughed fitfully, a normal state since the King developed consumption.
“King Mancref, I understand the situation is dire. I am consulting the fates. They have never betrayed me before. The sun is setting, and the stars will be out in short order. I will have an explanation soon. You must be patient,” Arianus pleaded.
“Do you hear the screams of my men, Arianus? You have no doubt felt the tremors!” the King was raging, “we might not last the night.”
“The fortifications will hold. I warded them myself…”
“You warded them? You’ll forgive me if I am unimpressed by your magics,” the King gestured to his guards, “stay with the wizard, if he attempts to flee cut him down. You have until morning Arianus. If the kingdom will fall, I assure you your head will fall first.”
The King slammed the door behind him. Arianus trembled as he pushed the armillary sphere into place. He stared out the window at the sunset, and begged the stars would give him an answer.