<br>
<br>
[[It is dark and quiet.|Under the bed]]
<br>
<br>
(set: $inv to (a:))Presently, you enter a vast, luxurious space. Here, the carpets are thicker -- you give a sigh as your feet sink into the softness. On the far wall, a large window covered by painted glass faces you; the setting sun stretches fractals of coloured lights across the floor.
<br>
But what captures your attention is the row of almost life-sized portraits mounted on the wall on your left.
<br>
Each portrait features a man, or rather, king, seated on a throne. Each king has a loyal hound -- no, wolf -- sitting obediently on his right. Well, if you were being honest, they look rather austere, with glittering rings on their fingers and the same long sword, leaning against the throne on the King's left.
<br>
The sword looks strangely familiar; you tilt your head as if trying to catch faint strains of music.
<br>
You go down the row of the hall of kings, examining each ruler...till you reach the last portrait. Here, the king looks younger and more like an unseasoned whelp. Though he had tried for the same severe countenance as that of his predecessors, his expression reminds you of someone attempting to prevent his bowels from evacuating spontaneously.
<br>
He too, looks vaguely familiar.
<br>
'Found you. And just before tonight, to boot,' an irritatingly reedy voice captures you by surprise. You recognise it with a start.
<br>
You whip around; it is a scrawny scarecrow of a man, wearing the common livery of servants. There is no way that you would want to follow this dodgy fellow. You cast about yourself, wondering if you should attempt to [[threaten him|threaten servant]] or [[fool your way out of this|fool servant]].You unfold the parchment to read, in a long cursive hand:
<br>
//(text-style:"emboss","expand")[The Fool's Dream, by Demaslyr the High Wizard]
<br>
A note from Demaslyr:
* The Fool's Dream - 57th attempt (one added berry)
* Previous attempts have been met with varying results, resulting in weakness of limbs, but not the desired weakness of the mind.
* This final version has been sampled repeatedly by the same subject, results are passing good -- subject exhibits no remembrance of past self, becomes surprisingly docile and compliant, and even remains able to function on his own.
* Effects on subject will fade after a day, administer the next dosage when needed.
* Note: The magic of the cauldron is such that the brewer of this potion shall gain what the subject loses.
(text-style:"emboss","expand")[Ingredients:]
5 crushed belladonna berries
Half a vial of poppy milk
3 chunks of raw shellfish
A vial of copper dust
<br>//
You suppose that replicating this potion might clear your mind. In the yellow lamp light, you cast about the room for the items. A vial containing berries of such a dark colour, almost black, catches your attention. You(t8n-time:1.5s)+(link-reveal:" crush the 5 belladonna berries.")[<br><br> After scrapping the crushed berries into the cauldron, you spot a creamy, pale yellow vial of thick concoction. Ah, that must be the (t8n-time:1.5s)+(link-reveal:"poppy milk.")[ You empty half a vial of poppy milk into the cauldron.<br><br>Following that, you see translucent chunks glistening in another vial. That would be (t8n-time:1.5s)+(link-reveal:"3 chunks of raw shellfish.")[<br><br> Now, for the vial of copper dust...<br><br>You lift your lamp higher to see a shelf labelled 'powdered metals'. On this shelf sits three stoppered vials -- [[a green powder]], [[an orange powder|The Fool's Dream1]], and [[a dark brown powder]] -- dash it, which is it?]]]You realise that your eyes are closed, so you open them. Not so dark anymore. But not so quiet either. You find yourself crouched on the cold stone floor, under the...bedding? //What? Why?//
<br>
In the distance, just beyond the heavy double doors of the chamber, you hear voices. One is harsh and demanding; the other is a thin tenor, like an untuned violin.
<br>
'How did you lose him?'
<br>
'I do not know. I...I was about to administer to him after using the privy briefly. When I came back, he was gone.'
<br>
'Well, find him! It should not be too difficult to search for a grown man, especially one as impaired as he is.'
<br>
The cruel one laughs derisively. Their voices fade and you hear two pairs of footsteps, heading their separate ways.
<br>
You release a breath you did not know you were holding. With a certain kind of dread, you //know// you were the centre of that conversation. You [[crawl out from under the bed|Bedchamber]].
<br>Ugh, stinks worse than cow pie left to steam in the ovens. What did he eat to warrant such regrettable refuse?
<br>
[[Wash your hands|privy]]The bed -- a double-poster monstrosity draped with piles of fur -- takes up most of the bedchamber. Waning sunlight streams in from a tall window, overlooking a delightful garden with trimmed hedges and noble statues. And beyond that, just separated by a stone wall, you overlook a steep cliff, with a great waterfall that gushes into the vast watery chasm far below. Sunlight winks at you from the precipice of the flowing sheet.
<br>
Blinking irritably from the light, you continue to peruse the room. A fireplace sits coldly in the room, adjacent to the bed. On the farthest wall just above the dresser hangs a [[silver sword]]. To the right, a little door leads to what you assume is the [[privy]].
<br>
On your left, the [[heavy double doors|Hallway]] is gilded richly in gold and carved with intricate vines. //What an ostentatious room//, you think.The double-handed longsword is a beautiful weapon -- the evening rays glint off its sharpened edges. Leaning closer, you see a design carved into the steel near the hilt -- a silhouette of a wolf on the plains, its head raised to the night, lost in a howl.
<br>
//Interesting//. It might be great to [[take the sword|long sword1]] and arm yourself, but at the same time, carrying a long sword might make you stand out, and you would like to avoid that, so you move on to the [[privy]].A dark, albeit spacious room filled with...unsavoury smells. //Well, that man could not have possibly used it just 'briefly'.//
<br>
A dwindling candle illuminates the space -- a chamber pot in which the contents should not be [[examined|poop]], and at the wash basin, a glass vial half-filled with some unidentifiable liquid, a pretty shade of milky lavender. You uncork it to take a whiff -- nothing, apart from the smell of the privy. You deeply regret this action, but [[pocket the vial|glassvial1]] nonetheless.
You push your way out into a vast hallway. Torches set in sconces line the way, also illuminating various tapestries hanging on the walls, all of intricately-woven depictions of...wolves. One tapestry depicts a wolf curled up in slumber. Another seems to feature a pack of wolves hunting through the forest, their lithe shapes blending with the trees. Strange.<br>
Thankfully, in their haste, the two men had not thought to lock the door. The hallway seems empty for now; you breathe a sigh of relief. The carpet muffles your footsteps as you ponder your next step. //Left or right?//
<br>
A peculiar smell wafts towards you, making your belly rumble in response. It seems to come from the [[left|Hallway-left]]. On your [[right|Hallway-right]], you notice a pale purple smudge on the red carpet.(if: $inv's length > 0)[You are carrying: a $inv]
(else:)[You are not carrying anything.]
<br>
<br>
<br>
(link-undo:"Return")
<br>
(if: (passage:)'s name is "carrying")[<!--Do nothing-->]
(else-if: (passage:)'s tags contains "donotshowinventory")[<!--Do nothing-->]
(else:)[Check what you are [[carrying]].]Double-click this passage to edit it.You turn left and walk down the hallway. It seems strangely silent, except for the growing roar of the staggering waterfall.
<br>
//Where did everyone go? Why is no one walking about the castle halls?// The hallway takes you down a flight of steps. Presently, you begin to hear...clanging sounds. Something whistles abruptly. The peculiar smell that makes your mouth water [[quickens your footsteps|pantry]]...You tuck the vial securely in the pocket of your robe and decide to [[leave the bedchamber|Hallway]].
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: " glass vial")) You find a scabbard leaning against the dresser, and strap the longsword to your waist. //Hmm, a surprising fit.// Feeling more emboldened, you [[leave the room|Hallway]].
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: " long sword")) Double-click this passage to edit it.You walk into a pantry. A very large one, in fact. It is noticeably stuffier here -- the great oven at the far end can attest to that. The whistling noise comes from a kettle, hanging over a fireplace.
<br>
Various cured meats hang on hooks near the far end of the kitchen. //Mmmh.//
<br>
The kettle reaches a shrill pitch. Even as you eye the meats, a middle-aged woman, dressed in the common livery you have seen servants wear, lifts the kettle off its hook. With a start, she notices you standing idly by the entrance.
<br>
It looks like you have been [[found|kitchen wench conversation]].You turn right and continue down the hallway. You keep your eyes peeled to the carpets, but nothing catches your eye.
<br>
The sound of crashing water below the cliffs fade away. The hallway seems to stretch endlessly. You pass by chambers, some with doors open, but the place seems strangely devoid of anyone.
<br>
You are so engrossed in gazing into every chamber that you almost miss a knight -- heavily decked in armour, of course -- coming down the opposite end of the hallway. Thankfully, he is busy rubbing off a grease stain from his chestplate, and does not notice you...yet.
<br>
You dart into an alcove with an open window. Below the two-storey drop, you can see grassy plains painted gold that seem to stretch on for miles.
<br>
A crisp evening breeze blows in and you try not to shiver, as the knight draws closer with each clunky [[step|knight]].The kitchen wench gives one look at you.
<br>
'Oh dear, Crispin must have left him unattended again,' she mutters, not really to you.
<br>
'I am here, you know,' you say, feeling like a ghost.
<br>
'Are you really?' she gives you a hard stare. You do not know what she sees in your face, but after a moment, she looks away. 'You should not be alone. Crispin has been looking for you. Go on.'
<br>
When she notices that you do not make a move, she suspires loudly.
<br>
'There is especially much to prepare for the feast. You need to //go//,' she urges you towards a [[side door|garden]]. You eye a [[plate of ham|a plate of ham1]] at the counter beside you as you leave.{
(if:$inv contains " long sword")[Crispin spots you as he straightens.<br><br>
'Perfect, I have found you. And just in time for tonight, to boot,' he grins like a man who has just found the shortest way to accomplish an unpleasant task. You grimace as you recognise his reedy voice.
<br><br>
But before he can even think to make a step towards you, you unsheathe your sword with a ring and charge brashly forward, waving it in his face -- nevermind that your swordsmanship is akin to that of a drunkard attempting to swat a fly -- and he backs off, eyes wide.<br><br>Then, he runs full tilt into the garden, disappearing from your view. You decide that you have done quite a satisfactory job of scaring him off. You [[leave|corridor]].]
(else-if:$inv contains " glass vial")['Perfect, I have found you. And just in time for tonight, to boot,' Crispin turns and spots you. A satisfied smile stretches his lips. You recognise his reedy voice with a jolt.
<br><br>
//Hmm. Perhaps now is a good time to test the effects of the lavender potion.//<br><br>You fish the vial from your robes, its glass glinting threateningly in the evening sun.
<br><br>
'What are you doing with that?' Crispin gasps.
<br><br>
You make no answer as his eyes go from the vial to you, and back. Filled with false bravado, you take a step forward. He backs away....Until he turns suddenly and darts into the deepening gloom of the garden.<br><br>You look admiringly at the contents of the vial, awed but not a little unsettled. Crispin has disappeared, and you decide to [[leave|corridor]].]
(else:)[You attempt to intimidate Crispin by shouting in his face, but you do not have anything to threaten him with. Unfortunately, your average stature is insufficiently equipped to frighten anyone.<br><br>Suddenly, he leaps at you. You try to fend him off, but his scrawny arms hold a surprising amount of strength; he wraps them around your throat. He shoves a vial of lavender-shaded potion to your lips.<br><br>You feel the glass clink unpleasantly against your teeth. His other hand clamps down upon your nose. <br><br>//It is hard to breathe.// <br><br>You have no choice to but to choke down the drink... You feel as if someone has stuffed your brain with wool. <br><br>You cannot //think//. You cease to //know//.<br><br>[[You close your eyes.]]]
}You slip into the Library. Full-length windows, leading up to an impressive glass domed ceiling, let in the faint twinkling of stars turning in the dusky sky. Long rows of smooth wooden tables and chairs stand against the wall. A labyrinth of shelves reaching to the ceiling obscures the other end of this vast space of knowledge. Lamps hang at even intervals around the place, casting everything in a warm glow.
<br>
You locate one such lamp, placed at the end of a table, and proceed to pick your way through the tomes. What strikes you most is the profound silence of the Library -- not even the leafing of parchments can be heard. You slip between the [[shelves|Amongst the shelves]]...You duck beneath the doorway and enter the garden. It is a riot of colours inlaid with the gold of the setting sun. Statues stuck in noble poses take on a life-like appearance as shadows curve about their alabaster forms.
<br>
Here, the gushing of the waterfall is the loudest, and if you stand still, you might even feel the ground trembling with the force of all that water tumbling into the vast ocean, so far away below the cliff.
<br>
As you wander deeper into the garden, trimmed hedges of various...wolfish shapes form your periphery. Some sit on their haunches, ears pricked, as if scenting the air, while some lie in peaceful repose. The ones that have the appearance of tensed hind legs, as if ready to pounce, puts you on edge. You feel surrounded by a pack.
<br>
You spot something that is not quite a hedge, sticking out from behind a statue. As the figure starts to straighten, you freeze. It looks like you have found Crispin the servant. Or perhaps he has found you.
<br>
It is impossible to turn back now. You pat your pockets, wondering if you should attempt to [[intimidate him|intimidate servant]] or [[trick your way out of this|trick servant]].
{
(if:$inv contains " glass vial")+(if:(history: where its name contains "a plate of ham1")'s length >= 1)[You sketch a smile on your face just as Crispin turns around. He stares at you. Or rather, he stares at the plate of ham you are holding.
<br><br>
'Oh, looks like I have found you. Fresh ham from the pantry,' you try to say nonchalantly, as if running into him is not a mistake. You proffer the bait to him. You shift your stance slightly, feeling the reassuring weight -- perhaps of a few drops lighter -- of the glass vial in your pocket.
<br><br>
'This is great. I could just tell him that I found you myself. Just in time too.'
<br><br>
Crispin looks like the sort of fellow who would speak his thoughts out loud. //Who knew.// You try to keep a pleasant smile on your face as you recognise his reedy voice.
<br><br>
'And he brought ham too! What a docile little thing,' he returns your smile condescendingly. He takes the plate from you and scarfs down the first slice. A pause. And then his eyes widen in horror. The plate of ham falls to the ground. You watch his eyes turn blank, like someone who has given himself up into the void of nothingness. He looks so lost and //empty// that you take a step back. With an odd, aimless gait, he totters down the garden, into the deepening gloom.<br><br>The reassuring weight in your pocket suddenly feels like an anchor. With a shiver, you surmise that he would be an unlikely cause for concern again, and [[leave|corridor]].(set: $inv to $inv - (a: " a plate of ham"))]
(else-if:$inv contains " glass vial")[//Perhaps now is a great time to test the contents of the glass vial.//<br><br>'Why, this must be yours,' you say without any inflection in your tone, as you proffer the vial.
<br><br>You draw a little satisfaction when Crispin turns around with a start.
<br><br>
'There you are. Just in time for tonight, to boot,' he grins, recovering quickly. You recognise his nasally tenor and smother a grimace. As he approaches, hand outstretched to receive the vial, you grab him by his sleeves. You soon have him in a tenuous headlock, and ignoring the twinge of guilt, hastily force the lavender potion down his throat.
<br><br>
You cannot comprehend his horror as he helplessly swallows a mouthful from the vial. Even as you return the vial to your robes, you watch his eyes turn blank, like someone who has given himself up into the void of nothingness. He looks lost and //empty//, so much so that you take a step back. With an odd, aimless gait, he totters down the garden, into the deepening gloom.<br><br>You suppress the irrational urge to smash the glass vial. With a shiver, you surmise that he would be an unlikely cause for concern again, and [[leave|corridor]].]
(else:)[//Oh, dash it!//<br><br>You realise that you do not have anything to trick him with. Even if you had a weapon, you are unable to draw it in time. Crispin senses your approach and whips around. He suddenly leaps at you.<br><br>You try to fend him off, but his scrawny arms hold a surprising amount of strength; he wraps them around your throat. He shoves a vial which contains a lavender-shaded potion to your lips.<br><br> You feel the glass clink unpleasantly against your teeth. His other hand clamps down upon your nose. <br><br>//It is hard to breathe.// <br><br> You have no choice to but to choke down the drink... You feel as if someone has stuffed your brain with wool. <br><br>You cannot //think//. You cease to //know//. <br><br>[[You close your eyes.]]]}You swipe the plate of ham unobtrusively as she turns back to the fireplace. Who knows, you could feel peckish later, or it could come in useful. You go through the [[side door|garden]].
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: " a plate of ham")) Double-click this passage to edit it.Your lamp bathes everything in a yellow glow -- the curved, cold stone walls, lined with glass vials of various potions in arrayed colours; a small wooden table cluttered with many items -- what catches your eyes are a small cauldron, a book and a scrap of parchment.
<br>
Just as you take in your surroundings, your pool of pulsing yellow light grows smaller; your lamp gutters and it seems as if it is about to reach the end of its lifespan.
<br>
Hurriedly, you decide if you should examine the [[book|journal1]] or the [[folded scrap of parchment|scrap of parchment]].{(if:(history: where its name contains "garden")'s length >= 1)[What you have witnessed has shaken you deeply. No one spots you as you traverse the castle halls and walk aimlessly down a corridor. The roar of falling water recedes into silence. You look out of a window -- the sky has darkened now, streaks of pink now settling into purple.
<br>
With no plan in mind, you wander down yet another vast, carpeted hallway, and at last, arrive at a set of thick wooden doors. They have been left slightly ajar. From the inside, you smell parchment, ink...and a faint whiff of condescension.<br><br>Ah, you have found the [[Library|Library]].]
(else:)[What you have witnessed has shaken you deeply. No one spots you as you traverse the castle halls and walk aimlessly down a corridor. You look out of a window -- the sky has darkened now, streaks of pink now settling into purple.
<br>
With no plan in mind, you wander down yet another vast, carpeted hallway, and at last, arrive at a set of thick wooden doors. They have been left slightly ajar. From the inside, you smell parchment, ink...and a faint whiff of condescension.<br><br>Ah, you have found the [[Library|Library]].]}{
(if:$inv contains " long sword")[You hold your breath as the knight passes. Just as he is level with you, you notice that your sword is sticking out from the alcove.
<br><br>
//Dash it to pieces!// Ah, but it is too late to move now. As if reading your thoughts, the knight turns unerringly to stare at you. There is a pause in which both parties gaze in befuddled silence at each other.
<br><br>
'You should not be here, the banquet is soon to begin,' he says abruptly. When you make no move to follow him, he steps closer and stretches a gauntleted hand to...drag you out? Attack you?
<br><br>
You never find out as you are occupied with unsheathing your sword. Unfortunately, your woeful lack of swordsmanship means that the knight simply waves away your efforts, giving a light guffaw.
<br><br>
The sword tip drops to the floor in your despair. With a strange turn of luck, the knight trips over your sword as he takes a step towards you. With a decidedly un-knightly squeal, he keels over so fast that it looks like he dived out of the window.
<br><br>
//Hmm.// You pause to watch the knight spread like butter on the grass for a moment. A second later, he lets out a groan. You assume he is fine, and continue on your [[way|Hall of Kings]].]
(else:)[You hold your breath as the knight passes. He does not even take a glance at your alcove as he breezes by, as if on an urgent mission.
<br><br>
'All knights posted, but one entrance left unguarded. Unbelievable. I wonder what the royal half-wit has planned for tonight,' he mutters to himself in a low voice.
<br><br>He seems rather busy. You are glad that you did not waylay his plans with your unexpected presence. After waiting for a handful of breaths, you continue on your [[way|Hall of Kings]].
]
}
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: " journal"))You pick up the book, examining the cover. The seal of a wolf howling on a plain is etched into the worn leather.
<br>
Flipping the cover, you are met with hastily-scrawled words:
<br>
//DO NOT TRUST CRISPIN AND DEMASLYR. DO NOT DRINK ANYTHING THEY HAND TO YOU.//
<br>
//Well. Crispin had proven to be a most unpleasant fellow.// The author of this book, or rather, journal, appears to be quite well-informed about that. Propping the journal open in your hand, you let it spring to a page that seems to have been leafed to, numerous times. Here, the writing is the same as before, but perhaps less harried and more pensive:
<br>
//There is a plot afoot. Crispin seems more secretive than usual. Not to say that he was not a sneaky fellow before -- I caught him trying on my crown once, preening in the mirror -- but now, he and Demaslyr appear to be having discussions in alcoves, thinking that I do not notice. Crispin has also taken a sudden interest in my meals -- he brings them up to my chamber in a tray, though I do so wish to dine with the nobles in the Great Hall. Perhaps he is taking his duties as a valet too seriously.
<br>
Lately, Demaslyr seems quite solicitous about my health as well. This strikes me as fishy; and I do not mean simply his breath. He regards my occasional bouts of weaknesses with such unwarranted concern, bringing me delightfully coloured potions in little glass vials for consumption.
<br>
He is certain that one such potion shall cure me one day -- the fool's dream, he calls it. Is it foolish to dream of better days? Ah, but he is such a contrary fellow! Yet, perhaps certain strangeness on his part should be allowed; he is the High Wizard, after all.//
<br>
What seems to be a promising read ends abruptly when your lamp dies, leaving you in darkness. You sigh, tucking the journal into the spacious pocket of your robes, and [[depart|leading to Great Hall]].Double-click this passage to edit it.{
(if:$inv contains " long sword")[
'What is your name?' You say with false bravado.
<br><br>
'Crispin. Not that it will matter to you, anyway.'
<br><br>
//What an odd and rather off-putting fellow.// Wishing to unsettle him, you unsheathe your sword with a ring and advance towards him. In your haste, and well, because of your admittedly pitiable skills, your sword tip scratches a thin line across the shoes of the young king's painting.
<br><br>
Fortunately, Crispin is sufficiently threatened. With a yelp, he turns and flees, glancing back only to look at the portrait of the king, and you, standing beneath it.
<br><br>
As you struggle to sheathe your sword, you breathe out a sigh of relief and [[leave|corridor]].]
(else-if:$inv contains " glass vial")[
'What is your name?' You say with false bravado.
<br><br>
'Crispin. Not that it will matter to you, anyway.'
<br><br>
//This scruffy fellow could really use a good dressing-down.//
<br><br>
You fish the vial from your robes, its glass glinting threateningly in the evening sun.
<br><br>
'What are you doing with that?' Crispin gasps.
<br><br>
You make no answer as his eyes go from the vial to you, and back. Filled with false bravado, you take a step forward. He backs away....Until he turns suddenly and flees from the room.<br><br>You look admiringly at the contents of the vial, awed but not a little unsettled. Crispin has disappeared, and you decide to [[leave|corridor]].]
(else:)[
'What is your name?' You say with false bravado.
<br><br>
'Crispin. Not that it will matter to you, anyway.'
<br><br>
You are rather put-off by his derisive tone, and decide that a good threat would benefit his character. You attempt to intimidate Crispin by shouting in his face, but you do not have anything to threaten him with. Unfortunately, your average stature is insufficiently equipped to qualify as a threat.<br><br>Suddenly, he leaps at you. You try to fend him off, but his scrawny arms hold a surprising amount of strength; he wraps them around your throat. He shoves a vial of lavender-shaded potion to your lips.<br><br>You feel the glass clink unpleasantly against your teeth. His other hand clamps down upon your nose. <br><br>//It is hard to breathe.// <br><br>You have no choice to but to choke down the drink... You feel as if someone has stuffed your brain with wool. <br><br>You cannot //think//. You cease to //know//. <br><br>
[[You close your eyes.]]]}{
(if:$inv contains " glass vial")[
'What is your name?' You say with false bravado.
<br><br>
'Crispin. Not that it will matter to you, anyway.'
<br><br>
//What an odd and rather off-putting fellow. Perhaps now is a great time to test the contents of the glass vial.//
<br><br>
'Why, this must be yours,' you say without any inflection in your tone, as you proffer the vial.
<br><br>You draw a little satisfaction when Crispin steps closer. As he approaches, hand outstretched to receive the vial, you grab him by his sleeves. You soon have him in a tenuous headlock, and ignoring the twinge of guilt, hastily force the lavender potion down his throat.
<br><br>
You cannot comprehend his horror as he helplessly swallows a mouthful from the vial. Even as you return the vial to your robes, you watch his eyes turn blank, like someone who has given himself up into the void of nothingness. He looks lost and //empty//, so much so that you take a step back. With an odd, aimless gait, he totters down the hallway, your presence forgotten.<br><br>You suppress the irrational urge to smash the glass vial. With a shiver, you surmise that he would be an unlikely cause for concern again, and [[leave|corridor]].]
(else:)[
'What is your name?' You say with false bravado.
<br><br>
'Crispin. Not that it will matter to you, anyway.'
<br><br>
You are rather put-off by his derisive tone, and decide that you ought to slyly make your exit.
<br><br>
'Well, I have places to be...' you say nonchalantly as you attempt to sidestep him. Unfortunately, he takes a sudden leap at you. You try to fend him off, but his scrawny arms hold a surprising amount of strength; he wraps them around your throat. He shoves a vial of lavender-shaded potion to your lips.<br><br>You feel the glass clink unpleasantly against your teeth. His other hand clamps down upon your nose. <br><br>//It is hard to breathe.// <br><br>You have no choice to but to choke down the drink... You feel as if someone has stuffed your brain with wool. <br><br>You cannot //think//. You cease to //know//. <br><br>
[[You close your eyes.]]]}
You walk deeper into the Library. Here, the only light comes from your lamp. The silence grows on you like mould.
<br>
Presently, you reach the last shelf. It looks like this foray amongst the tomes has been for naught. But just as you turn, you trip over your own feet, grabbing a volume off the wooden rack as you attempt to regain your balance.
<br>
//Oops.//
<br>
A strange reluctant groan emanates from the shelf. It starts to swing inwards, like a door.
<br>
Into darkness.
<br>
Holding your lamp out in front of you, you [[enter|Potions Room]].The night sky blinks down at you from the glass dome of the Library. You ease your way out of its doors, setting aside the guttered lamp. Picking another hallway, you meander along the path absentmindedly. Pieces are starting to fall in place; what should you do?
<br>
You notice that the sound of the unstopping waterfall grows louder and louder, until it fills you with a comforting drone. But it is overshadowed by murmurs that gradually grow into a hum of conversation. Accompanying this sound is the clink of glasses. You round a corner and almost walk into two knights, who appear to be guarding the entrance to the revelry. Peeking through the grand, gilded door is the warm welcome of flickering firelight.
<br>
Shielding yourself behind the corner of the hallway, you feel an inexplicable urge to join in. You wonder if you should force your way through these [[knights]], or find a possibly [[unobtrusive entrance]].You charge towards the knights, hollering at them, hoping to blunder your way in.
<br>
Unfortunately, they catch you easily, due to your relatively diminutive stature. You struggle futilely as they seize your arms, sandwiching you in their midst.
<br>
'What is the fool doing here?' one knight asks the other.
<br>
'I am no fool,' you splutter indignantly. Unfortunately, the knights' sceptical expressions inform you otherwise.
<br>
'Let us bring him in. His Reverence will know what to do,' the other knight replies.
<br>
You are thus borne, kicking and struggling vainly, into the [[Great Hall|Great Hall - struggle]].You circle the area and realise that there are a dozen entrances, all with two heavily-armoured knights except for one. Giving yourself a metaphorical pat on your back, you make your way to this unguarded entrance, twist the gilded handle and open the door.
<br>
It opens without a hitch.
<br>
You step out into the brightly-lit [[Great Hall|Great Hall - unguarded]].You tip the green powder into the cauldron. Immediately, you sense something is wrong when the mixture turns a nasty, poisonous green. Just as you lift the cauldron to empty it, it senses your intentions and the mixture vanishes. You sigh, picking up the parchment to [[start over|scrap of parchment]].You tip the orange powder into the cauldron. Despite the lack of a fire, the mixture bubbles as you give it a final stir. It shimmers and settles into a light brown potion.
<br>
//That's odd.//
<br>
//Oh, wait.// You realise that the lamp casts everything in a yellow light.
<br>
Perfect! You scoop the potion up into an empty vial, tucking it into your robes. Your lamp gives a last sputter and dies as you [[leave|leading to Great Hall]] the secret room.
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: " The Fool's Dream"))You tip the dark brown powder into the cauldron. Immediately, you sense something is wrong when the mixture turns an obnoxious, deep muddy colour. Just as you lift the cauldron to empty it, it senses your intentions and the mixture vanishes. You sigh, picking up the parchment to [[start over|scrap of parchment]].Double-click this passage to edit it.The Great Hall flows with chatter and wine -- a hundred nobles, clothed richly in silky doublets and flowing dresses, fill the vast space. Up ahead, raised above the ground by a flight of ten, shallow steps, is a platform with a throne placed upon it. In front of the throne stands a man, with cropped grey hair and equally grey, shrewd eyes. His right hand plays with the stem of his empty goblet as he thoughtfully surveys the crowd.
<br>
All these, you take in peripherally, as you are dragged through the nobles to stand before the shrewd man. Silence falls upon all like a cloud, and the pair of grey eyes [[settles on you|entrance]].You realise you are standing on a raised, grand platform with a throne seated in the middle. The platform is separated from the vast carpeted floor by a flight of ten steps.
<br>
On the lower level, a hundred nobles are mingling, ringed fingers resting on goblets and dressed in fine clothing -- silky doublets and trailing dresses, with diamonds sparkling at throats.
<br>
And standing on the platform, with his back to you, is a tall man with cropped grey hair and a fitting, blue doublet. Negligent fingers twist the stem of a drained goblet as he surveys the crowd thoughtfully.
<br>
Even as you take in the hall, the nobles fall silent at your presence, and the pensive man turns around to [[face you|entrance]].{(if:(history: where its name contains "Great Hall - struggle")'s length >= 1)['Ah, our guest of honour has appeared,' the man says placidly. His words are calculated to pin you down. You blanch, recognising his harsh voice, words coming together like grating stones.
<br><br>
Shaking off the guards still clinging to your arms to hide your own trembling, you attempt to eye him haughtily despite the fact that he is looking down at you from a greater height.
<br><br>
'Whatever it is you are doing, you will not get away with this, Demaslyr,' you say, and gain not a little satisfaction when his eyes widen at the use of the name.
<br><br>
He opens his mouth to retort, or perhaps to refute your claim, but is interrupted by a ripple in the crowd. Crispin, that scruffy, unpleasant whelp, worms his way out of the proudly-dressed nobles.
<br><br>
Demaslyr's eyes narrow with irritation as they fall on him, and Crispin gulps nervously.
<br><br>
'Crispin, I see that you have failed even at the simplest of tasks,' Demaslyr the High Wizard announces, gesturing languidly at [[you|Crispin's second appearance]].]
(if:(history: where its name contains "Great Hall - unguarded")'s length >= 1)['Ah, our guest of honour has appeared,' the man says placidly. His words are calculated to pin you down. You blanch, recognising his harsh voice, words coming together like grating stones.
<br><br>
To hide your trembling, you cross your arms and attempt to imitate his haughty stance.
<br><br>
'Whatever it is you are doing, you will not get away with this, Demaslyr,' you say, and gain not a little satisfaction when his eyes widen at the use of the name.
<br><br>
He opens his mouth to retort, or perhaps to refute your claim, but is interrupted by a ripple in the crowd. Crispin, that scruffy, unpleasant whelp, worms his way out of the proudly-dressed nobles.
<br><br>
Demaslyr's eyes narrow with irritation as they fall on him, and Crispin gulps nervously.
<br><br>
'Crispin, I see that you have failed even at the simplest of tasks,' Demaslyr the High Wizard announces, gesturing languidly at [[you|Crispin's second appearance]].]
}{(if: ((history:) contains "intimidate servant"))['He knows, m'lord! The potion has worn off --' Crispin babbles.
<br><br>
'Silence,' Demaslyr snaps.
<br><br>
The nobles watch avidly, and you know, from their speculative glances, that they will not be of any assistance. Yet, they will need to be swayed.
<br><br>
'What charade have you been playing at, Demaslyr?' You demand shakily.
<br><br>
'As you can see, the King has been ill for a very long time,' the High Wizard suddenly projects his voice over the crowd. 'He has bravely called you here today to witness the truth of his condition, and bids me attend to the matters of the Kingdom while he recuperates.'
<br><br>
You ignore the nobles' appreciative murmurs and sympathetic looks as you stare at Demaslyr. //A very long time...//
<br><br>
'I have been poisoned by you, you...you scab,' you gasp.
<br><br>
The murmurings of the crowd grows louder.
<br><br>
'Oh, really! Look at him -- he is in his [[sleeping robes|continued encounter]],' Demaslyr flaps an arm at you exasperatedly.]
(if: ((history:) contains "trick servant"))['I...I, uh, who are you?' Crispin peers dazedly at the High Wizard. With a chill, you realise that the potion is still working on him.
<br><br>
'Oh, you really are useless,' Demaslyr snaps.
<br><br>
The nobles watch avidly, and you know, from their speculative glances, that they will not be of any assistance. Yet, they will need to be swayed.
<br><br>
'What charade have you been playing at, Demaslyr?' You demand shakily.
<br><br>
'As you can see, the King has been ill for a very long time,' the High Wizard suddenly projects his voice over the crowd. 'He has bravely called you here today to witness the truth of his condition, and bids me attend to the matters of the Kingdom while he recuperates.'
<br><br>
You ignore the nobles' appreciative murmurs and sympathetic looks as you stare at Demaslyr. //A very long time...//
<br><br>
'I have been poisoned by you, you...you scab,' you gasp.
<br><br>
The murmurings of the crowd grows louder.
<br><br>
'Oh, really! Look at him -- he is in his [[sleeping robes|continued encounter]],' Demaslyr flaps an arm at you exasperatedly.]
(if: ((history:) contains "threaten servant"))['He knows, m'lord! The potion has worn off --' Crispin babbles.
<br><br>
'Silence,' Demaslyr snaps.
<br><br>
The nobles watch avidly, and you know, from their speculative glances, that they will not be of any assistance. Yet, they will need to be swayed.
<br><br>
'What charade have you been playing at, Demaslyr?' You demand shakily.
<br><br>
'As you can see, the King has been ill for a very long time,' the High Wizard suddenly projects his voice over the crowd. 'He has bravely called you here today to witness the truth of his condition, and bids me attend to the matters of the Kingdom while he recuperates.'
<br><br>
You ignore the nobles' appreciative murmurs and sympathetic looks as you stare at Demaslyr. //A very long time...//
<br><br>
'I have been poisoned by you, you...you scab,' you gasp.
<br><br>
The murmurings of the crowd grows louder.
<br><br>
'Oh, really! Look at him -- he is in his [[sleeping robes|continued encounter]],' Demaslyr flaps an arm at you exasperatedly.]
(if: ((history:) contains "fool servant"))['I...I, uh, who are you?' Crispin peers dazedly at the High Wizard. With a chill, you realise that the potion is still working on him.
<br><br>
'Oh, you really are useless,' Demaslyr snaps.
<br><br>
The nobles watch avidly, and you know, from their speculative glances, that they will not be of any assistance. Yet, they will need to be swayed.
<br><br>
'What charade have you been playing at, Demaslyr?' You demand shakily.
<br><br>
'As you can see, the King has been ill for a very long time,' the High Wizard suddenly projects his voice over the crowd. 'He has bravely called you here today to witness the truth of his condition, and bids me attend to the matters of the Kingdom while he recuperates.'
<br><br>
You ignore the nobles' appreciative murmurs and sympathetic looks as you stare at Demaslyr. //A very long time...//
<br><br>
'I have been poisoned by you, you...you scab,' you gasp.
<br><br>
The murmurings of the crowd grows louder.
<br><br>
'Oh, really! Look at him -- he is in his [[sleeping robes|continued encounter]],' Demaslyr flaps an arm at you exasperatedly.]}You glance down at your own wear. //Well, they are comfortable.//
<br>
'I fail to see how my wardrobe contributes to the state of my health,' you say primly, even managing a haughty sniff. You can sense that the High Wizard is getting a tad bit flustered.
<br>
The nobles' whispers rise in volume, and you wonder if you should [[put your oratory skills to the test]], or dash it all and simply [[give Demaslyr a swift punch to the nose]].{(if:$inv contains " a plate of ham")[You pull out a plate of ham. //Oh, oops.// That is not what you had meant to remove. But nonetheless...<br><br>The Great Hall waits in anticipation as you scarf down the plate of ham, not the least bit perturbed by the nobles' flummoxed gazes. Soon, the empty plate is tossed negligently aside, and you reach into your robes once more.<br><br>]}The journal is a reassuring weight in your hand. The seal bearing the wolf flashes in the firelight, and the nobles' gasp. Demaslyr's face pales.
<br>
'How did you get in?' the High Wizard demands. The image of you tripping and grabbing a volume off the shelf flashes in your mind. You give him an enigmatic smile.
<br>
'If you would be so kind to read the first page, Demaslyr,' you say, handing him the [[journal|end-journal-1]].
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: " a plate of ham")){(if:$inv contains " a plate of ham")[You pull out a plate of ham. //Oh, oops.// That is not what you had meant to remove. But nonetheless...<br><br>The Great Hall waits in anticipation as you scarf down the plate of ham, not the least bit perturbed by the nobles' flummoxed gazes. Soon, the empty plate is tossed negligently aside, and you reach into your robes once more.<br><br>]}The Fool's Dream glints an inviting shade of opaque lavender. In contrast, the High Wizard's face turns a sickly grey.
<br>
'You have been administering these delightful little potions to me. Well, if you claim that it cures me...' you trail off suggestively, proffering the potion to him.
<br>
Demaslyr's face recovers its colour as he takes the potion from you confidently, uncorks the vial and [[downs the potion]].(set: $inv to $inv - (a: " a plate of ham")){(if:(history: where its name contains "Great Hall - struggle")'s length >= 1)[Ascending the stairs to stand level with Demaslyr, albeit still maintaining a healthy distance from him, you turn to address the nobles.
<br><br>
'M'lords and m'ladies, I bid you attend to these words. Should Demaslyr prove himself above suspicion, then I will indeed accede my throne to him. However, if he is not, he will be dealt with swiftly, and those involved as well.'
<br><br>
Following that ominous statement, the nobles murmur their assent. From the corner of your eye, you see the High Wizard's fingers curl into fists and you meet his eye triumphantly -- he will not attempt any wizadry here; the nobles' support is essential to upholding the throne...
<br><br>
'This is the rambling of a moon-addled fool. I will not be on trial here. Knights, seize him,' Demaslyr growls.
<br><br>
'Does that not prove your guilt, High Wizard?' you smirk.
<br><br>
Demaslyr fixes you with a glare. He waves off the knights, and they step back reverently.
<br><br>
//Hmm. If this night turns out to be in your favour, you may just have to let loose an entire garrison.//
<br><br>
'Behold this,' you say, and with a flourish, you reach into your pocket, to pull out [(if:$inv contains " The Fool's Dream")[[[the evidence|The Fool's Dream potion]].](if:$inv contains " journal")[[[the evidence|your journal]].]]]
(if:(history: where its name contains "Great Hall - unguarded")'s length >= 1)[Stepping beside Demaslyr, albeit still maintaining a healthy distance from him, you steel yourself to address the nobles.
<br><br>
'M'lords and m'ladies, I bid you attend to these words. Should Demaslyr prove himself above suspicion, then I will indeed accede my throne to him. However, if he is not, he will be dealt with swiftly, and those involved as well.'
<br><br>
Following that ominous statement, the nobles murmur their assent. From the corner of your eye, you see the High Wizard's fingers curl into fists and you meet his eye triumphantly -- he will not attempt any wizadry here; the nobles' support is essential to upholding the throne...
<br><br>
'This is the rambling of a moon-addled fool. I will not be on trial here. Knights, seize him,' Demaslyr growls.
<br><br>
'Does that not prove your guilt, High Wizard?' you smirk.
<br><br>
Demaslyr fixes you with a glare. He waves off the knights, and they step back reverently.
<br><br>
//Hmm. If this night turns out to be in your favour, you may just have to let loose an entire garrison.//
<br><br>
'Behold this,' you say, and with a flourish, you reach into your pocket, to pull out [(if:$inv contains " The Fool's Dream")[[[the evidence|The Fool's Dream potion]].](if:$inv contains " journal")[[[the evidence|your journal]].]]]}{(if:(history: where its name contains "Great Hall - struggle")'s length >= 1)[//Hmm. The High Wizard's face could really use a touch of improvement.// You rush up the stairs, draw level with him, and punch him squarely in the nose.
<br><br>
Demaslyr reels back with a yelp, clutching his nose, which is starting to bloom with a bruise. //Yes, definitely improved.//
<br><br>
He staggers, more out of surprise than pain, and falls down the short flight of stairs, to land in a heap at the nobles' (and Crispin's) feet. They draw a collective gasp.
<br><br>
Your satisfaction is short-lived; a stinging ache makes itself known in your knuckles. It seems that your hand-to-hand combat skills are rather dismal.
<br><br>
'Seize him,' Demaslyr shrieks at the knights.
<br><br>
The knights advance towards [[you|taunt Demasylr]]...]
(if:(history: where its name contains "Great Hall - unguarded")'s length >= 1)[//Hmm. The High Wizard's face could really use a touch of improvement.// You rush at him, draw back a fist, and punch him squarely in the nose.
<br><br>
Demaslyr reels back with a yelp, clutching his nose, which is starting to bloom with a bruise. //Yes, definitely improved.//
<br><br>
He staggers, more out of surprise than pain, and falls down the short flight of stairs, to land in a heap at the nobles' (and Crispin's) feet.
<br><br>
Your satisfaction is short-lived; a stinging ache makes itself known in your knuckles. It seems that your hand-to-hand combat skills are rather dismal.
<br><br>
'Seize him,' Demaslyr shrieks at the knights.
<br><br>
The knights advance towards [[you|taunt Demasylr]]...]}'Are you not going to fight your own battles, Demaslyr?' you say tauntingly.
<br>
Demaslyr straightens his doublet, fixing you with a glare. He waves off the knights, and they step back reverently.
<br>
//Hmm. If this night turns out to be in your favour, you may just have to let loose an entire garrison.//
<br>
'Why, perhaps you might want to take a look at this,' you say, reaching into your [(if:$inv contains " The Fool's Dream")[[[pocket|The Fool's Dream potion]].](if:$inv contains " journal")[[[pocket|your journal]].]](set: $inv to $inv - (a: " The Fool's Dream"))You are puzzled by his confidence at first, until the High Wizard meets your eyes in horrible realisation, the glass vial falling limply from his fingers.
<br>
'How...How did you...' he stutters.
<br>
In the nobles' captivated silence, the vial continues its descent, emitting a hollow clink whenever it hits each step.
<br>
//Ah.// You recall his potion notes:
<br>
//The magic of the cauldron is such that the brewer of this potion shall gain what the subject loses.//
<br>
'You...you fool,' he gasps, as his awareness drains away. The vial lands on the ground with a final tinkle, sibilant as a bell.
<br>
The sound shocks the nobles into action, as they gaze in consternation and seem to take a collective step away from Demaslyr the High Wizard. His face is suddenly blank and empty of malice, or rather, empty of //anything//, in fact. He gazes dazedly into the distance.
<br>
But before you can enjoy your victory, you gasp suddenly, as a ton of memories hit you in the face like [[a fully-laden tray|end-The Fool's Dream-1]].You must have stood on the spot for a breath, or two, or even for days. You do not know.
<br>
But when your mind clears, the scene in the Great Hall is immensely satisfying --
<br>
All the nobles' eyes are on you, even Lord Fabian's, who ought to be passed out under a table about this time during a party. A large space at the foot of the platform reveals Crispin your valet, cowering beside a befuddled and somewhat defeated-looking Demaslyr. The crowd's avoidance is not one of reverence, but rather, of apprehension -- as if they cannot bear to touch the two traitors.
<br>
You breathe in deeply, relishing the scene before you, and settle down upon your throne. But you are missing something...where is he?
<br>
A yip sounds from behind your throne. You turn around to find your wolfhound pup, floppy-eared and mottled grey, peeking out from behind a leg. //Ah, there is your wolf.//
<br>
Leaning back in your throne, you wonder if you should [[question Crispin]] or [[skip straight to their punishment|end-The Fool's Dream-2]].'If you and Demaslyr could just scooch over to your left, Crispin,' you say pleasantly to your valet, or rather, //former// valet. He complies, albeit confusedly.
<br>
You pause in the silence of the Great Hall, relishing the roar of the waterfall that stretches down the steep cliff, all the way down to the vast ocean. You had insisted that the Great Hall be built in close proximity to this [[relentless force of nature|end-The Fool's Dream-3]].'Perfect,' you say, as your right index finger locates a slight indentation, the size of your fingerpad, in the wooden arm of your throne. 'Well, I can say that it has not been a great pleasure having you as a valet, Crispin. You can certainly expect no glowing recommendations from me.'
<br>
With that, you press the indentation. The floor opens up, right beneath Crispin and Demaslyr's feet, in a perfect square. They disappear without a sound, except for two distinct splashes a handful of breaths later.
<br>
The drone of the waterfall goes on unhindered, unencumbered, unfazed.
<br>
You lift your finger, and the square folds itself back up. The nobles' stunned expressions fills you with satisfaction.
<br>
'The party is over,' you wave them towards the exits. You do not have to repeat yourself; the crowd rushes towards the surrounding double doors with great alacrity.
<br>
'Now, bring me the Knight Commander,' you yell.
<br>
You lean back, closing your eyes with a smirk.
<br>
//Perhaps Demaslyr might have had a valid reason to poison you after all.//
<br>
---
(align:"<==>")+(box:"==XXX")[The End.]{(if: ((history:) contains "intimidate servant"))['Why, Crispin? Why did you betray me?' you ask your valet.
<br><br>
'We...we had to stop you,' he says weakly, looking like a man who has reached the end of the road, and knows that there is no turning back.
<br><br>
'Stop me from what?'
<br><br>
'From doing this. Being the King,' he replies. //Hmm, Crispin has never really been great at explanations.//
<br><br>
You let his words dissipate into the silence of the Great Hall. In the quiet, you relish the roar of the waterfall that stretches down the steep cliff, all the way down to the vast ocean. You had insisted that the Great Hall be built in close proximity to this relentless force of nature.
<br><br>
'Well, you know what I have to do with traitors,' you say gently. [[He gulps, nodding|end-The Fool's Dream-3]].]
(if: ((history:) contains "trick servant"))['Why, Crispin? Why did you betray me?' you ask your valet.
<br><br>
'Betray you...? Uh, what...what do you mean?' Crispin blinks dazedly at you. It is a look that Demaslyr is wearing as well.
<br><br>
'Ah, I forgot,' you sigh. The potion is still in effect.
<br><br>
You eye him, deep in thought. In the quiet, you relish the roar of the waterfall that stretches down the steep cliff, all the way down to the vast ocean. You had insisted that the Great Hall be built in close proximity to this relentless force of nature.
<br><br>
'Well, you know what I have to do to traitors,' you shrug. Crispin's attention has wandered to the walls, while Demaslyr has become very interested in a thread on the carpet.
<br><br>
//Oh well, you do not have the [[time of day|end-The Fool's Dream-3]].//]
(if: ((history:) contains "threaten servant"))['Why, Crispin? Why did you betray me?' you ask your valet.
<br><br>
'We...we had to stop you,' he says weakly, looking like a man who has reached the end of the road, and knows that there is no turning back.
<br><br>
'Stop me from what?'
<br><br>
'From doing this. Being the King,' he replies. //Hmm, Crispin has never really been great at explanations.//
<br><br>
You let his words dissipate into the silence of the Great Hall. In the quiet, you relish the roar of the waterfall that stretches down the steep cliff, all the way down to the vast ocean. You had insisted that the Great Hall be built in close proximity to this relentless force of nature.
<br><br>
'Well, you know what I have to do with traitors,' you say gently. [[He gulps, nodding|end-The Fool's Dream-3]].]
(if: ((history:) contains "fool servant"))['Why, Crispin? Why did you betray me?' you ask your valet.
<br><br>
'Betray you...? Uh, what...what do you mean?' Crispin blinks dazedly at you. It is a look that Demaslyr is wearing as well.
<br><br>
'Ah, I forgot,' you sigh. The potion is still in effect.
<br><br>
You eye him, deep in thought. In the quiet, you relish the roar of the waterfall that stretches down the steep cliff, all the way down to the vast ocean. You had insisted that the Great Hall be built in close proximity to this relentless force of nature.
<br><br>
'Well, you know what I have to do to traitors,' you shrug. Crispin's attention has wandered to the walls, while Demaslyr has become very interested in a thread on the carpet.
<br><br>
//Oh well, you do not have the [[time of day|end-The Fool's Dream-3]].//]}He reluctantly reads out the warning you had scribbled on the first page, sounding like a man who has swallowed gravel.
<br>
'These are the words of an imbecile,' the High Wizard snorts in derision.
<br>
'Perhaps so,' you concede. 'But move on to the other page.'
<br>
The journal springs to the entry that has been read many times over. //Probably by Demaslyr himself.// You repress a chill.
<br>
The nobles listen with rapt attention as the High Wizard reads out the last entry you had paged through before, in a bored, monotonous voice.
<br>
'This proves nothing,' Demaslyr [[scoffs|end-journal-2]].'Well, your oral skills could use some improvement,' you say reprovingly, snatching the journal back.
<br>
'This journal only proves your paranoid foolishness. There is no potion,' Demaslyr says scornfully.
<br>
'The journal sets the scene, for this,' you say, gesturing to Crispin the servant. 'Turn out your pockets.'
<br>
//This had better work. Crispin must carry one such potion, and it has to come from him, not you. But the chances of this are but a flip of the coin...//
<br>
{(if: ((history:) contains "intimidate servant"))[Crispin hesitates, glancing up at the High Wizard, as if for guidance. At the nobles' urging, he has little choice but to pull out a glass vial from his pocket, filled with the oddly-inviting, milky lavender potion.
<br><br>
The elegantly-dressed nobles take a step back from Crispin. Sensing a change in tide in your favour, you say in a hard voice --
<br><br>
[['Drink it.'|end-journal-3]]]
(if: ((history:) contains "trick servant"))[Crispin looks blankly at the crowd, bemused to find himself suddenly in the middle of attention. Other than that, he makes no effort to accede to your request.
<br><br>
'He drank Demaslyr's potion,' you say matter-of-factly.
<br><br>
'Crispin has always been dull-witted,' the High Wizard argues.
<br><br>
'Someone, search him,' you say, tired of his antics.
<br><br>
A knight, one of the two who had kindly dragged you into the Great Hall, steps forward and pulls out a potion vial from Crispin's pocket. It glints an innocent, pleasant purple. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief.
<br><br>
Fixing the knight with a hard look, you say --
<br><br>
[['Drink it.'|end-journal-3]]]
(if: ((history:) contains "threaten servant"))[Crispin hesitates, glancing up at the High Wizard, as if for guidance. At the nobles' urging, he has little choice but to pull out a glass vial, filled with the oddly-inviting, milky lavender potion.
<br><br>
The elegantly-dressed nobles take a step back from Crispin. Sensing a change in tide in your favour, you say in a hard voice --
<br><br>
[['Drink it.'|end-journal-3]]]
(if: ((history:) contains "fool servant"))[Crispin looks blankly at the crowd, bemused to find himself suddenly in the middle of attention. Other than that, he makes no effort to accede to your request.
<br><br>
'He drank Demaslyr's potion,' you say matter-of-factly.
<br><br>
'Crispin has always been dull-witted,' the High Wizard argues.
<br><br>
'Someone, search him,' you say, tired of his antics.
<br><br>
A knight, one of the two who had kindly dragged you into the Great Hall, steps forward and pulls out a potion vial from Crispin's pocket. It glints an innocent, pleasant purple. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief.
<br><br>
Fixing the knight with a hard look, you say --
<br><br>
[['Drink it.'|end-journal-3]]]}{(if: ((history:) contains "intimidate servant"))[There is a moment of silence that hangs in the air like a pall. Then, the vial slips from Crispin's suddenly limp fingers, and it shatters with a sharp scatter of glass. Shocked gasps fill the silence of the Great Hall.
<br><br>
The even greater shock comes when the servant looks up to give you a questioning look. His politely puzzled countenance is not the cause of your alarm, however, but rather, the //soulless// look in his eyes. As if the man Crispin who had lived in this meat body had up and vanished.
<br><br>
A quick look around ascertains that the nobles have reached the same conclusion -- they surround Demaslyr and Crispin at the foot of the platform, shaking their heads with haughty disapproval.
<br><br>
Your knees feel weak with this turn of events; you back up a few steps to perch thoughtlessly on the cushioned throne.
<br><br>
Demaslyr glares at you with a look so vicious that you are surprised you do not start bleeding from your nose. With the High Wizard's betrayal apparent, the nobles beseech you to do something, as if Demaslyr's fate lies in your hands.
<br><br>
//And it does//, you realise with a dawning smile.
<br><br>
Settling back in your throne, you raise your hand for silence. You wonder if you should [[question Demaslyr]] or [[skip straight ahead to his and Crispin's punishment]].]
(if: ((history:) contains "trick servant"))[The knight looks at you pleadingly, but you do not budge. At the nobles' urging, he has no choice but to take a drink from the vial.
<br><br>
There is a moment of silence that hangs in the air like a pall. Then, the vial slips from his suddenly limp fingers, and it shatters with a sharp scatter of glass. Shocked gasps fill the silence of the Great Hall.
<br><br>
The even greater shock comes when the knight looks up to give you a questioning look. His politely puzzled countenance is not the cause of your alarm, however, but rather, the //soulless// look in his eyes. He might as well have been a standing, decorative suit of armour. The equally bewildered gaze of Crispin peeks out at you from behind the shining suit.
<br><br>
A quick look around ascertains that the nobles have reached the same conclusion -- they surround Demaslyr and Crispin at the foot of the platform, shaking their heads with haughty disapproval, the knight now forgotten.
<br><br>
Your knees feel weak with this turn of events; you back up a few steps to perch thoughtlessly on the cushioned throne.
<br><br>
Demaslyr glares at you with a look so vicious that you are surprised you do not start bleeding from your nose. With the High Wizard's betrayal apparent, the nobles beseech you to do something, as if Demaslyr's fate lies in your hands.
<br><br>
//And it does//, you realise with a dawning smile.
<br><br>
Settling back in your throne, you raise your hand for silence. You wonder if you should [[question Demaslyr]] or [[skip straight ahead to his and Crispin's punishment]].]
(if: ((history:) contains "threaten servant"))[There is a moment of silence that hangs in the air like a pall. Then, the vial slips from Crispin's suddenly limp fingers, and it shatters with a sharp scatter of glass. Shocked gasps fill the silence of the Great Hall.
<br><br>
The even greater shock comes when the servant looks up to give you a questioning look. His politely puzzled countenance is not the cause of your alarm, however, but rather, the //soulless// look in his eyes. As if the man Crispin who had lived in this meat body had up and vanished.
<br><br>
A quick look around ascertains that the nobles have reached the same conclusion -- they surround Demaslyr and Crispin at the foot of the platform, shaking their heads with haughty disapproval.
<br><br>
Your knees feel weak with this turn of events; you back up a few steps to perch thoughtlessly on the cushioned throne.
<br><br>
Demaslyr glares at you with a look so vicious that you are surprised you do not start bleeding from your nose. With the High Wizard's betrayal apparent, the nobles beseech you to do something, as if Demaslyr's fate lies in your hands.
<br><br>
//And it does//, you realise with a dawning smile.
<br><br>
Settling back in your throne, you raise your hand for silence. You wonder if you should [[question Demaslyr]] or [[skip straight ahead to his and Crispin's punishment]].]
(if: ((history:) contains "fool servant"))[The knight looks at you pleadingly, but you do not budge. At the nobles' urging, he has no choice but to take a drink from the vial.
<br><br>
There is a moment of silence that hangs in the air like a pall. Then, the vial slips from his suddenly limp fingers, and it shatters with a sharp scatter of glass. Shocked gasps fill the silence of the Great Hall.
<br><br>
The even greater shock comes when the knight looks up to give you a questioning look. His politely puzzled countenance is not the cause of your alarm, however, but rather, the //soulless// look in his eyes. He might as well have been a standing, decorative suit of armour. The equally bewildered gaze of Crispin peeks out at you from behind the armour.
<br><br>
A quick look around ascertains that the nobles have reached the same conclusion -- they surround Demaslyr and Crispin at the foot of the platform, shaking their heads with haughty disapproval, the knight now forgotten.
<br><br>
Your knees feel weak with this turn of events; you back up a few steps to perch thoughtlessly on the cushioned throne.
<br><br>
Demaslyr glares at you with a look so vicious that you are surprised you do not start bleeding from your nose. With the High Wizard's betrayal apparent, the nobles beseech you to do something, as if Demaslyr's fate lies in your hands.
<br><br>
//And it does//, you realise with a dawning smile.
<br><br>
Settling back in your throne, you raise your hand for silence. You wonder if you should [[question Demaslyr]] or [[skip straight ahead to his and Crispin's punishment]].]}You tilt your head back, closing your eyes briefly. The room seems to be collectively holding its breath. In the quiet, you can hear the roar of the waterfall that stretches down the steep cliff, all the way down to the vast ocean. If you set your feet firmly upon the platform, you can almost feel the rush of this relentless force of nature.
<br>
A yip sounds from behind your throne, startling you. You turn around to find a wolfhound pup, all floppy-eared and mottled grey, peeking out from behind a leg. You glance from it to the cover of the journal, lying on your lap. //Close enough.//
<br>
Looking up, you fix Demaslyr with a firm look.
<br>
'Why, Demaslyr? Why did you poison me?'
<br>
'I had to,' he says simply.
<br>
You lean forward on your throne, hands pressed against the wooden arm rests. Your right index finger locates an indentation, the size of your fingerpad. //Curious//.
<br>
'That is a rather weak explana--' you say, but never get to finish.
<br>
Because two things happen in rapid succession -- your finger fits nicely into the indentation, and the floor opens up, right beneath Crispin and Demaslyr's feet, in a perfect square.
<br>
They disappear without a sound, except for two distinct splashes a handful of breaths later.
<br>
The drone of the waterfall goes on unhindered, unencumbered, unfazed.
<br>
//[[Oops.]]//You tilt your head back, closing your eyes briefly. The room seems to be collectively holding its breath. In the quiet, you can hear the roar of the waterfall that stretches down the steep cliff, all the way down to the vast ocean. If you set your feet firmly upon the platform, you can almost feel the rush of this relentless force of nature.
<br>
A yip sounds from behind your throne, startling you. You turn around to find a wolfhound pup, all floppy-eared and mottled grey, peeking out from behind a leg. You glance from it to the cover of the journal, lying on your lap. //Close enough.//
<br>
Fixing Demaslyr and Crispin with a firm look, you lean forward on your throne, hands pressed against the wooden arm rests. Your right index finger locates an indentation, the size of your fingerpad. //Curious//.
<br>
'Now, what would it be? Ten years in the dungeon, perhaps. No, a decade is too short--' you ponder out loud, but never get to finish.
<br>
Because two things happen in rapid succession -- your finger fits nicely into the indentation, and the floor opens up, right beneath Crispin and Demaslyr's feet, in a perfect square.
<br>
They disappear without a sound, except for two distinct splashes a handful of breaths later.
<br>
The drone of the waterfall goes on unhindered, unencumbered, unfazed.
<br>
//[[Oops.]]//An astounded silence fills the Great Hall. Nonetheless, feeling more like yourself than you have in days //(or was it months?)//, you decide to take it in your stride.
<br>
'The party is over,' you say, settling back into the throne. With surprising alacrity, the crowd rushes towards the exits.
<br>
'Now, bring me the Knight Commander,' you yell.
<br>
Over the rush of feet, you decide that you have some reading to catch up with, and flip open the journal with relaxed ease.
<br>
//Perhaps Demaslyr might have had a valid reason to poison you after all.//
<br>
---
(align:"<==>")+(box:"==XXX")[The End.](restart:)