Location: Fubar in the Orkney Region
Timeline: Sixth Age, Spring, 51
Ah, the fleeting nature of mortal comfort. It’s a delectable little tragedy, isn’t it? One moment, they are basking in the warmth of their stolen triumphs, the next, the chilling winds of reality come howling in through the window. It is during these moments of profound disruption that they are most pliable, most ready to be molded to my will. My darling Ramssee, a creature so perfectly attuned to the ebbs and flows of power, was about to learn this lesson all over again.
The Sands of Time, as the mortals so poetically put it, were a tool I had come to appreciate. Sometimes, they drain with a furious rush, as if in a race to an unseen finish line. Other times, they appear to be stuck, an indolent cascade of nothingness. Ramssee had experienced both. His life before my… mentorship… was a tedious parade of insignificance, each day a grain of sand stuck in the neck of the hourglass. But his year as Royal Steward, a role I had so carefully crafted for him, had been a glorious torrent, a fleeting rush of ambition and power.
But now it was the middle of Spring in the 51st Year, and Ramssee feared that the sands were about to stop flowing for him. He was lounging in his newly remodeled royal suite, a space he had, with typical audacity, completely redecorated to his own tasteless and garish preferences. The once somber, wooden walls had been draped in silken tapestries of his own creation, depicting his “glorious” ascent. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense and spiced wine. He was in his bed, a monstrous, over-the-top affair carved from some rare wood and draped in furs that had probably cost a king’s ransom.
His companion, a sleek, black-haired raven named Monnik, lay beside him. Like any other prostitute, she’d been summoned to the Royal Steward’s bed-chambers – in Monnik’s case it was back in winter of ’49. For reasons Ramssee still did not understand, unlike the other girls he took to bed, Monnik was different. To begin with, he didn’t have a desire to kill her after he’d his way with her. In addition, he actually liked spending time with her even when they weren’t having intimate relations. But perhaps what the viperz liked best about Monnik was that she was a conniving schemer just like himself – therefore, someday, Ramssee knew he would be able to use her skills in this capacity.
As a by-product of Ramssee’s attraction to Monnik, the viperz stopped his killing the whores of Fubar – for, except on rare occasions, Ramssee no longer desired to be with other ‘lesser’ women. Now, this is not to say he was foolish enough to parade Monnik around town – for she was after all a whore and The Royal Steward had a growing political reputation to attend to. Even still, he did invite her to frequent secret meetings at his home – telling his servants that the reason he needed to keep seeing this particular prostitute was because she was an unusual case – unlike the others, he explained that this one needed ‘special, long-term counseling’ in order to reach her reform and become a good citizen. Yet, whether or not his servants accepted this explanation did not matter to Ramssee, for, as he told himself, should any of them ever appear suspicious or out of line, he could always have them disposed of.
Tonight Ramssee and Monnik were nibbling on some sickly sweet, fruit-filled pastries, their morning tea laced with enough alcohol to make a sailor blush. He called it “nectar of the gods.” I scoffed. Gods, my dear boy, do not need to dull their senses with mortal vices.
These were the good things. The effortless, stolen comforts of a life he had not earned.
But this particular morning, Ramssee was in a black mood. A terrible, soul-gnawing darkness had descended upon him, for he’d received a missive that shattered his peaceful delusion. A courier from Primcitta, a wretch of a man covered in road grime and sweat, had arrived barely an hour ago, collapsing at the palace gates. He carried a parchment, a small, unassuming thing, that contained the most unwelcome news of all: Kaoz had returned to Primcitta and was already on his way back to Fubar. But that wasn’t the half of it – for King Diked – yes that Diked, the one who was supposed to have been murdered by Kaoz in Ramos, that Diked was still very much alive and he was expected to return to his kingdom within the week!
The blood drained from Ramssee’s face, and his hand, holding the delicate pastry, began to tremble. A year. A single, glorious year of unimpeded rule. It was over.
“And I suppose that means Diked will want to be ‘King’ again?” Monnik said the obvious, her voice a soft purr. She was a keen observer, and she had felt the subtle shift in his mood. She trailed her finger down his chest, a gesture of practiced intimacy meant to distract and disarm him. “Ahem. Honey, you did not answer me. Will Diked be return to be king?”
He pushed her hand away with a violent, disgusted shove. “What do you care?” Ramssee spat, his voice a low hiss. His paranoia, a delightful part of his character, immediately took hold. “Are you asking because that means you want to be with him now?!?”
Monnik, the little actress, feigned a wounded look. “No, no,” she soothed, her eyes wide and innocent. A lie, of course. I could see the truth in her heart, a single-minded ambition that rivaled his. She had every intention of remaining the “bride of power,” and if that power were to rest with the king, so be it. “I just care about you, about ‘us.’ Don’t you know me by now?”
Ramssee, however, was too engrossed in his own problems to bother with her theatricals. “Ach! That fool Diked will get to enjoy all the fruits of my labor. No, strike that, that nitwit will probably end up screwing things up and then expect me to fix them!” He threw his pastry across the room, watching it splatter against the wall with a satisfying plop. “Alas, even if Kaoz didn’t murder him, I was at least hoping that Diked would stay in Ramos forever under the thumb of Inanna. Either way he’d had been gone. Oh why can’t they all just leave me alone and let me run my kingdom?”
“I don’t understand, dear,” Monnik said softly, planting her seed of rebellion. “You are the one in power now. It’s you who has built Orkney into a wealthy kingdom, and I hear the royal families love you for it.”
“Get to the point, bitch.” Ramssee’s voice was as sharp as a dagger.
“Just this: do you really need to abdicate? Are you not strong enough now with the lords and the army to resist little Diked? Surely some of your men can dispatch with Kaoz—I mean, come now, he may be fearsome, but he is only ONE myz.”
Ramssee stared at her, his mind running a thousand miles a minute. The sheer, breathtaking arrogance of her suggestion was something he could almost admire. But then, a flash of something else, a thought he had not considered: Could she be right? “I wonder…” he mused aloud.
But the viperz’ mind, ever a tangled web of paranoia and fear, immediately rejected the idea. “Drat! It will never work! That fiend General Alec still hates me. Despite my attempts to fortify the army by giving him all those dwarvish weapons, that traitor still can’t look me in the eye!”
Monnik, ever the pragmatist, was already rubbing his chest again. “Alec is afraid of your power. Why don’t you just have him removed?” She moved her hand down to the snakeman’s stomach and then, with a practiced slowness, made her way lower still. “Perhaps that doesn’t matter now. Let me take your mind off of things…”
The Steward again brushed away her attempt and shoved her off the bed with a guttural roar. “No, what doesn’t matter is you! Now, get out! I have work to do.”
Monnik pretended to be upset as she ran from the room, a perfect exit for a wounded lover. But once she was out of sight, she gathered her composure and a small, predatory smile touched her lips. She retired to her own chambers to plan a wonderful day of baths and such by herself. And after that, she thought to herself, some shopping at the markets! He won’t deny me that.
Meanwhile, Ramssee continued his own furious introspection. Hmmm. She may be right—why do I have to abdicate? After all, look what I’ve accomplished.
While waiting for Diked and Kaoz to return, The Royal Steward mostly stayed in his rooms, his emotions sliding between wallowing in self pity and praising himself for all that he had done since Diked had left. He had, in his own mind, been a magnificent leader, surely the lords of Orkney would recognize that, or would they instead still view him as a usurper, an outsider, and side instead along racial lines to support the Dinus lineage?
To distract himself he thought about something else – there was, for example, the matter of Dugan Finch, that walking caricature of a buffoon. He had been a minor but annoying distraction. Ramssee recalled Finch’s surprise visit to Fubar. Since Lynsy and Diked had yet to be married and since Ramsse still very much wanted the Finch’s dowry, the Royal Steward played his part and wined and dined Dugan. As such the viperzd had to painstakingly listen to the twit lament about Diked not caring about him and wondering if they were still friends and whether or not Diked was still going to marry his “rug rat” of a sister.
What a dolt that Dugan was. Yet, he was easy to dispatch with—I didn’t even need my Powers to convince him that he had nothing to fear. I suppose I should be thankful that he took my advice and went home so quickly—else I would have been stuck with him all winter!
But those that was a minor thing. More important were matters of state: the improvements to the Fubar army and defense networks he’d instituted. It was true that soon after Diked left, Ramssee made the decision to allow Alec and his captains to take part in the review of the Akka treasure. More specifically, The Royal Steward decreed that the Orkney army was entitled to outfitting themselves with whatever dwarvish arms suited them. The only provision being that Ramssee reserved the right to review all items first, to ensure no magical weapons fell into the hands of a mere mortal. He was still searching for the Grim, of course – at least he’d given me that much respect.
[Besides making sure nobody took The Grim dagger if it happened to show up (which it didn’t), Ramssee also wanted to to ensure nobody from the army was taking anything too valuable – as such Ramssee had all gemstones removed from the Akka weapons before Alec or his men viewed them. The gems were then (allegedly) placed in the Royal Treasury (read: Ramssee’s private coffers). When Alec asked about the removal of the gems, Ramssee got him to agree that the stones served no purpose on the battlefield and would only endanger the men by distracting their attentions – this was perhaps the only time the Orkney General and the Royal Steward ever agreed on anything].
Then, when reports came in that a few of Orkney’s high society had some reservations about the ramping up of Fubar’s armed forces, The Royal Steward was easily able to dispatch those concerns. He held numerous social events during which he warned the upper crust that word of Orkney’s new wealth was spreading rapidly and was likely to bring all sorts of unsavory peoples to the kingdom. Fortification of the city was the first step, after which the viperz promised to give aid to the lords to protect their lands as well. This was, of course, a lie – Ramssee had no intention of spending any of his money to help the Orkney lords fortify their lands – especially since he planned to raid them one day and acquire them for himself, but once Ramssee secured their buy-in, he then commissioned a series of defense projects that offered further improvements to Fubar’s walls and bulwarks.
Ha, Diked and Kaoz won’t recognize the place when they return! The viperz smiled to himself. The walls around the inner city. The great gates. The new battlements. The guards. He had made a kingdom. He had earned his place.
[The fool that was Ramssee had actually convinced himself that these extra defenses would protect him against any future minions I might send his way, yet what he didn’t realize was that if/when the time came for me to extract him for his impudence, I wasn’t going to rely on any mortals to do my bidding – therefore Ramssee’s army and his walls wouldn’t matter one wit against what I had planned for him!]
Soon Ramssee was praising himself for a job well done. In truth, the year of his reign had been a profitable one. Although the Akka miners had never succeeded in opening The Deepest Depths or unearthing The Grim—a most frustrating setback—the viperz didn’t trouble himself on that front. Instead, The Royal Steward had continued to embezzle most of Akka’s treasures into his own coffers as he saw his wealth soar. He was rich beyond his wildest dreams.
Ah yes, it was a good year. Ramssee reminisced.
And he next reminded himself that his good fortunes followed him on the political front as well. For he’d allowed just enough wealth from Akka to trickle its way into the hands of the other powerful families of Orkney. He coupled this with lavish social events to celebrate the emergence of Orkney as a World Power. And naturally, at each of these soirees, Ramssee himself humbly accepted the praise of the kingdom, graciously allowing others to give him the moniker of “The People’s Champion.”
How ironic, he thought to himself, knowing he’d done nothing to help the common people of the kingdom. Ah, but theirs is a different lot in life—they neither need nor desire such riches as I do. They are my people, and I will live the glorious life on their behalf and they will all love me for it.
Yet not everybody loved Ramssee. And here his mind reminded him of something worse than the approaching return of the rightful king. For another a rather important event occurred in the middle of last year’s winter, on the bleakest day of the season and during the year’s longest night – that was when I, Grim Death, had come to call on him again. And it was then that I reminded him of my ultimate power, and of his ultimate failure to secure the Grim.
Ramssee nearly died that night – but I rather enjoyed myself and I’d love to tell you about it.
The Apocrypha of Azazel 