the Willowsbrook Chronicles -Chapter 8: A seemingly generous proposal.
Welcome, everyone, to another chapter of The Willowsbrook Chronicles. I hope you’ve been enjoying this crazy fictional romp so far because there’s still plenty more tale to tell.
The Ansolar story arc is complete. Duke Helfgin, and Rier Kethwelt, are in bug trouble. But the story is nowhere near done.
Now Gunther and company prepare to meet with Duke Brekkin, the ruler of their Duchy. For Gunther, Naomi Kline, and Quigsley Starshatter their crazy adventures continue.
Get ready for the first chapter of the next story arc in the Willowsbrook Chronicles. The Cursed Lands begins now.
Arcturius Brekkin, ruler of the Brekkin Duchy, sat behind a desk slumping in his chair and sighing.
Before him sat Pope Geoffrey Wilshire III, head of the Church of the Sun God Solarin. “You’re certain old friend?” The pepper bearded Duke asked.
“You know I would never lie to you on this matter," the sixtyish clean-shaven man stated.
The Duke let out a deep breath. "So, the blight of the Cursed Lands is starting to spread?”
Aye my lord, tis true. According to the Holy Seers of Lord Solarin, only he and his friends can stop the Necromancy curse.”
“Geoffrey,” The ruler began in mild consternation. “I mean no disrespect towards you or Lord Solarin, but how can one man do this for us? Even I fail to see Lord Solarin and the Gods’ designs in this matter.”
The Pope let out a wry chuckle. “My long-time friend, only a fool claims to know everything the Gods plan. We are but mere mortals and can never know their true designs until fruition.”
"There’s truth in those words." Brekkin conceded. "But still, the poor fellow and his friends have been through a great deal as is. I am still loathe to doing this.”
“Solarin and the Gods do not choose perfection," The Duke's childhood friend pointed out. "They choose the right people for the job, faults and all.
"The Gods have put the mark of destiny on him, his friends, and others who will come into his life. Our job, is to see that the Gods’ will carried out."
The middle-aged man put his elbows on the desk, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Aye, my friend, aye, and as ruler of this Duchy the people are my responsibility.
"That damned Necromancer's Curse has been a thorn in our side too long. Too many have suffered or died, and I won't have the people or commerce ruined anymore!"
The Pope nodded in approval. “Your concern for your people is exactly why The King trusts you, as do I.”
The Duke got up from the chair in his royal office suite and stretched his muscles. Then he turned and headed to the window behind his desk. He stared out at the palace and the bustling Kesolar city beyond, a troubled look caressing him.
"I’ll hope and pray to Solarin and the Gods for your success. You may very well be this Duchy and Velstand’s best hope… Gunther Willowsbrook."
“Gunther, will you relax?” Naomi scolded for the umpteenth time.
The big man scratched his face and his neck. “I can’t help it, between the beard trimming, haircut, and the new clothes, everything itches!” He complained.
“What are you griping about?" Quigsley added from his right. "At least you got some recipes from that nice Inn before we left Ansolar.”
“Indeed, it’s been ages since I had a nice long bath,” the former serving maid added looking relieved.
Looking over himself, and his friends in their new clothing, the former Tavern cook smiled. "I have to admit, Spymaster Oakenford saw to it we got the royal treatment after all we endured," he observed.
They stared at the magnificent stone structures as they strolled up the street. All while passing by pedestrians, messengers, and even several horse-drawn wagons and carriages.
“Ooh, look at the buildings. This beats what’s in Ansolar,. The brunette woman pointed out looking at a magnificent church on their left.
The cook nodded his agreement. “Helfgin didn’t do all that much for the infrastructure of the city, the corrupt bastard!”
“At least he'll be getting his at the hands of the Spymaster and the Grey Cloaks now.” The Illusionist stated, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.
Gunther grimaced. "I don't even want to think about what awaits those traitors or their nobles allies For all of King Velstand's mercy, a torture room awaits all who betray the land for Yatusk."
“Not only that," the wizard pointed out. "I have a feeling the new Earl is going to have a lot of clean up on their hands. At least he will when the King announces who it'll be."
The big man noted a thoughtful look roll on to Naomi’s face. “What troubles you my friend?” He asked, curious.
“Why does Duke Brekkin wish to speak with us?” she asked.
“Don’t know,” Quigsley answered as he shrugged. “But it must be of some importance.”
The three headed up the cobbled streets of Kesolar. They watched as daily life among the the citizenry and the various rows of buildings.
“This city, while beautiful, is also a maze. How do you find anything when there are no maps here?" The tall man muttered out loud, as he looked around.
A glowing ball of energy appeared above Quigsley’s head as he finished the spell. Former cook and barmaid looked at the illusionist in surprise. “What, you never seen a mapping spell before? Simple magic it is.”
“I didn’t know you could do that, I thought you were an illusionist.” The large man observed.
“I am, but mapping spells even the most rudimentary wizards can cast.”
“Quigsley, I don’t think you’ve ever answered the question, why did you leave the Academy all those years ago?” Naomi inquired.
He tensed up. “I… Had me reasons,”
The look on the illusionist's face showed he was hiding something. “If you don’t want to talk about it now, it can wait until you’re ready,” she assured him.
The wizard relaxed. “Thanks… It isn’t pleasant, and I'll leave it at that.”
After several twists and turns, they finally reached the central area of the city.
A large three-story manor house behind a very secure thorn and ivy-covered stone wall.
Over the building flew a red flag. it had a white silhouette of a hawk in flight in front of two crossed swords and a black shield. the family crest of the Brekkin family.
Even the iron gate that marked the entryway looked formidable.
The two guards standing in front of the gate looked like they were ready for anything.
The chainmail clad guards spotted the trio as they approached. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Is there something I can help you with citizen?” One of the guards questioned when they reached the gate.
They pulled out the letters they had received. “Good afternoon," the large man stated . "My name is Gunther Willowsbrook. These are my friends Naomi Kline and Quigsley Starshatter. We’re here at the command of Duke Brekkin himself.”
The Guard took the letters and looked them over. “Aye, aye," he acknowledged.
"This looks like the Duke’s writing, and I see his royal seal on it. Hang on one moment,” he told them.
The guard turned and tapped his halberd against the barred gate in a complex pattern. It swung open enough for the guard to enter. A few minutes later, the guard returned. Accompanying him was a gentleman dressed in a royal blue doublet, hose and leather boots.
The trim bearded man looked over the three and nodded, before he spoke in a very aristocratic tone. “Ah yes, Goodman Willowsbrook, Goodwoman Kline, and Illusionist Starshatter. His Excellency is expecting you, I am Sharman, the butler and head of the household staff. Please, follow me.”
They followed him on to the property, and found themselves in another world. They passed by elaborate and beautiful gardens, and well-tended fruit trees. Various gardeners were seeing to them.
“As you can see,” the butler explained, obvious pride in his voice. “The master believes in being presentable to the public and taking care of his people.”
“He's serious about his responsibilities huh?” The former cook noted.
He nodded in confirmation. “He is, the Master also wishes to offer up a personal apology for what happened in Ansolar. It was only recently that we found out about Helfgin’s treacherous antics.
"Be rest assured, the wretch and his associates will never be able to try that again. The master can explain the rest.”
The staff head looked at Gunther, and the large man noticed a sad smile cross the man's features. “You’re the very image of your father.”
“Wait, my father," he inquired. "What do you know of him?”
“Much more than you realize, In time things will become known to you. Keep in mind, for now, you are far more unique than you realize Goodman Willowsbrook.” Sharman informed him.
What is going on? This is the first time I’ve heard about my father…especially when I never knew him or my mother, Gunther wondered.
The butler led them up to the third level, and into a luxurious well decorated hallway. They arrived at a set of double doors which showed two proud hawks flying and facing towards each other. He knocked on the door.
A voice from within answered, “What is it Sharman?”
Gunther felt his heart leap into his throat. He was about to have an audience with the ruler of the Duchy he’d lived in all his life. Arcturius Brekkin may not have been as powerful as the King, but he was still was someone of high authority. “
Your Excellency, Goodman Willowsbrook, Goodwoman Kline, and Illusionist Starshatter have arrived.”
“Send them in,” was the command.
The butler pushed opened the doors, and bowed, before he stepped aside.
The three entered the luxurious chamber to see the ruler of the Duchy . The man was sitting behind his desk, a pile of paperwork to one side. Behind him, a window allowed daylight to come in. Several candelabras stood on various shelves around the office.
They walked up to his desk, and bowed to the Duke. Gunther knew this was the proper way to address their Duchy ruler. Kneeling was for the King.
Gunther and the others straightened up. “Your Excellency,” he began. “Forgive me if I seem nervous, it’s well… I’m not used to meeting someone of your station.”
“None of us are my Duke.” Naomi added sounding sheepish.
The pepper bearded man smiled in amusement. “I can imagine, Oakenford and the Grey Cloaks sent me a report on what happened. I appreciate your help in foiling this insidious plot."
"The King and I have suspected some of the nobility have been conspiring with the Warlock Masters. And the documentation found proves it. I suspect this is only the tip of a rather nasty proverbial spear.”
“Can’t say we was exactly all that aware of the situation your Excellency. Trying to clear our names we were.” The illusionist quipped.
“But, I’m still curious about why the summons?” The former cook inquired.
To the three's surprise, a look of conflict seemed to cross the noble's face. Then he schooled his expression and began. “Because, I have a reward, and a proposal for you, if you’re interested.
"How would you feel about the prospect of opening your own Inn?”
Gunther almost fell over in surprise as the words of the Duke struck him. “Um… Your Excellency… No disrespect intended, but did you ask me about opening my own Inn?”
The Duke nodded his affirmation, in turn the big man did everything he could to stay upright. A chance to own his own Inn, the Duke was offering him a chance to fulfill his lifelong dream. “Um… Yes," he answered recovering himself. "Yes, I am interested. but where would I be going sire?”
“Ah yes, the details,” the ruler of the Brekkin Duchy chimed in .
Gunther felt his fear begin to leave him, as he was going into an area where his expertise would come in handy. Gunther set his mind to the conversation, eager for what this proposal was.
And the evil cliffhanger strikes, again!
Well looks like Gunther has himself the offer of a lifetime. But is there more to this offer than meets the eye? Considering the conversation, the Duke had with Pope Geoffrey earlier, could be.
And what does Sharman know of Gunther’s father?
And what about Quigsley’s little secret?
So many questions, so little time. Come back for the next chapter of The Willowsbrook Chronicles. Also, I’ll leave a link below to the first chapter of the previous story if you want to read things from the beginning.
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Next: The Willowsbrook Chronicles - Chapter 9: Inn by the Cursed lands