I plop another one of the purple fruits in my mouth and crush it. I look to my plate woefully; I'd nearly cleared it all. Greedy as I am, I'd like to save some for later so a refill was out of the question.
I'm not sure what they're called, just that they are small, round and come in a bunch. The servants served them up to me with some other fruits of course, but out of all they are my favourite. They weren't overly chewy and crunchy, nor did they melt in my mouth before a third bite, they weren't terribly sweet either, just the right balance of everything for the best taste and experience.
It delights me greatly to swish them around in my mouth, trying to see how long I could wait before crushing it for its savoury juices and it served well as a past time, even a distraction from the bore and drudgery of my court, well, Hall. But soon I would be granted a proper court, I would be raised to proper nobility not the mere imitation I am now, forced to oversee a woeful village on the outskirts of the Kingdom.
A punishment from my father, assigning me control of a pitiful village with barely any protection. I don't know what I did that was so wrong honestly but I know I don't deserve to be stuck in this backwater.
Still, I ploughed through, like he wants me to; to grow in power and acknowledge the responsibility I have to the people. Ludicrous, but I'd wait. The old man is ailing and it wouldn't take long for him to pass I just need to be patient and I'd be rewarded the sweet taste of my birth right.
But for now, at least, the tastes of these fruits would do and they would do well, especially with the grim look on my steward's face as he hurriedly approaches me.
"What is it this time? More elves groaning? I've told you to sike the militia on those ingrates." I plop another fruit in my mouth as I regard him with a look.
He falls to a knee at the steps to my make-shift throne; one of the first things I did when I took over renovate. They'd received me without the proper preparations, how was I expected to rule if I didn't even have a throne room? That day I'd punished a lot of people, especially the person I was replacing. Thinking about him now, protesting that a 'Mayor' didn't have a throne room enrages me. I am no 'Mayor' I am Nobility; I am heir to an entire Countship and yet I receive such ill treatment.
"Sire, it's the Diviner. He is out front demanding an audience with you, he sa-"
"Demanding?"
"Err, I mean he-"
The doors abruptly swing open, slamming against the sides of the wall with a bang. Spilling through the doors are my guards and ordinarily they aren't on fire but right now they rolled around the floor flailing and screaming for the burning to stop.
I get to my feet and stretch my hand forth, I call on the familiar pool within me, taking a tiny bit out of it and mould it to my will, immediately the result of this exercise is evident by the jet of water spiralling through and dousing them.
"What is the meaning of this!" My question is directed not at my steward or the men thanking me for my mercies but at the crotchety old man stepping over the writhing bodies of my guards.
"You've kept me waiting far too long, Perlman, especially for someone of your station." He raises his staff and flails it at me. I catch myself flinching at it the action, old as he is the Diviner wields decades of harnessed power and he is my elemental opposite.
He snorts at me as he approaches the steps, my steward retreating behind me like I could protect him from the powerful Diviner if he chose to attack, "Relax, Perlman, I have not come for you head, but I will if you continue to brush aside my warnings and pleas. I come again to inform you of heresy brewing in your domain, if you send me away this time, I will return sanctioned by the Synagogue to burn you where you stand."
I narrow my eyes at the old man, I didn't doubt for a second, he meant what he'd said. Diviners were zealots sniffing the air around them for the slightest sign of misalignment with the Synagogue, they're terribly efficient at detecting and perceiving disturbances wherever they're placed and they're always eager to strike it down.
"You came to me with this two days ago, said you sensed a terrible disturbance in the direction of Arak village. The Following has wiped out the village like they were always going to old man, your eagerness did not change the timeline of this outcome one bit. Next you tell me that disturbance has made it's way to my domain and what did I tell you?"
The old crone falls silent and sneers at me, "You shoved my matter aside, Perlman. Not as important as ordering a new stock of that fruit of yours. I demanded action on the heathen, however many they may be!"
"No! I told you that it was a trade day. Many people entered the village that day, you want me to order the guard to interrogate them all and scare off trade? No, never! I may simply be bidding my time but for however long my stay here will be I intend to make it comfortable."
"And today? The streets are abuzz, Perlman, shut in as you are you must have heard of this charlatan and I come with proof." He turns back to the wide-open door and beckons on the woman that stood in path, head held down. "Come, tell your Mayor what you've heard, what you've experienced"
She shuffles forth, stopping a few feet behind the Diviner to bow at the two of us, "Lord Mayor-"
"Sire"
"Ah, yes, Sire, what the Diviner says is true, there is a charlatan in the streets charging fifty coppers at a chance to see our lost ones."
"See?" I direct my question at the Diviner, "See them physically? Are you speaking of Necro magic?" If there is a Necromage in our midst then the situation is truly dire. He doesn't answer, only looks at the woman, urging her with his eyes to continue.
"Yes, the charlatan claimed to be capable of bringing our lost ones to the physical for fifty coppers."
"Seems fair, compared to what the Synagogue charges." I sneer right back at the Diviner, but truly I only mask my nervousness.
"Yes, that is why I tried to see my dearly departed friend yesterday," she looks away ashamed to speak it whole in the presence of the Diviner.
"Speak, woman, you are absolved by your confession." The Diviner comments impatiently.
She nods and continues, "I had my fifty coppers ready and I attempted to see my friend via this charlatan, not only was he unable to let me see my friend but he tried to fabricate lies about what my friend would say to me from the bosom of Anera."
I let out a sigh, relieved. "What have you brought me, Diviner? You want me to send my guards to clear out every trickster that tries to prey on the villagers? It can't be helped these people will always exist."
"She isn't done." Is all he says.
"But today, on my way to the river to fetch water, I saw a large crowd. Curious I took a look and it was the same charlatan, except this time he made good on his promise, he brought back Lord Garland the First!"
Garland the First? "Are you certain of this?"
She nods vigorously, her eyes wide as she remembers the scene, "Apparently it was on the request of Lord Garland the third, he sought to see his grandfather. The charlatan made a spectacle of it, claiming us all as his witnesses he brought back Lord Garland the First and took him back all with the snap of his fingers, right before our eyes!"
I look at the Diviner and shiver. A Necromage. Here? I gulp and silently curse my luck. More than likely I should prepare a carriage for home.
"Before you begin plotting your escape, Perlman, we should see this Necromage ourselves."
"Are you insane? No matter how strong you perceive yourself to be Diviner, you cannot be so pompous to take on a Necromage on your own."
"He hasn't begun killing anyone and from her story it seems he doesn't even have a hand on his own power. And who said anything about alone?"
The smile on his wrinkled face only serves to deepen my fears. What does this insane Diviner have planned?