Enchantress 4 - Turtle Eclipse

Nick was so tired, but he was hungry. "Yes."

"Come, your family waits." Harold led Nick to a section of the palace he's never been to before. As they walked Harold said, "His majesty may not recover, he has no progeny. He has no one to leave the throne to when he passes."

"He can adopt an heir," said Nick as Herald led him down a dark hallway. "It's an old Ephebian custom." They turned a dark corner and Herald opened a door. "This is kind of out of the way," said Nick.

"It will be hard to find you, and just in case someone you don't want to see is prowling the palace," said Harold with a knowing smile. "Out the door across the hall is the stable, you can be gone in minutes." And with a bow, Harold was gone. Inside the door was a warm, cheery apartment with two bedrooms, in one bed recovered Preston, in the other bed lay Octavia and Marlon. A central room had a meal laid out for the two couples, and Annabelle was already spoon-feeding Preston.

Nick loaded up a plate with roast beef and vegetables and sat down on the bed and fed his wife. When they were done eating, he curled up around her and Marlon and slowly became a black Bang Galore tiger. His soft fur and resonating purr helped drive the memories of the Dungeon Dimension away.

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The next two weeks were hell on Nick. He was acting as king as far as he was concerned. He answered petitions with the king's permission, and he occasionally flew home to check on his farm and check on the Watch. With their commander and ranking sergeant missing, Nick was sure all would devolve into chaos, but that didn't happen. The constables listened to Fred Colon and Angua von Überwald and came together as a brotherhood.

Nick presided over the Week of National Mourning for the two princes and was the go-to man for all questions. "Where is the king's chief of staff?" demanded Nick.

"Lord Ponder is one of the ones that came back dead," said Harold Lorechestershire.

"Ok, Mrs. Moxie, you're currently in charge of housekeeping?"

"Yes, your grace."

"You are now my chief of Palace Staff. Harold, you are now my aide-de-camp."

"But..."

"No buts, Lancre needs you. Serve or sit in the dungeon, those are the only two options I have available at the moment."

"Yes, sire."

"The people are demanding to see the princes," said Nick. "Let's set up two small white caskets in the main hall and a family portrait between them and let the people pay their respects." Then, turning to Sean Ogg, he said, "Sean, this will probably be toughest on you. Your troops are going to be my go-to guys. I need a guard on each coffin, door guards, and people to control the crowd. The Highway watch is sending an honor guard, they can help. Also, I need you to send someone to the Slipspring, Singe, and Cadence families and let them know that I cannot promise them protection."

"Cannot or will not sire," asked Sean.

Nick just frowned and said, "tell them that they may want to find exile outside of Lancre."

Lords Harcourt and Baltimore helped a lot during the next two weeks, and Octavia helped wherever she could. She created two magic urns that held pure white flames that flickered and sat at the foot of the two small coffins and when someone came up with a wheelchair, Nick wheeled Octavia to the King's apartment where she could spend time with Magrat and Verance. Nick got back to his apartment that evening and found Octavia on the edge of tears. "What's the matter, darling?"

"I tried to ease Esmeralda's pain. I read her memories, and I saw what happened to Abraam."

"What happened?"

"The beasts in the dungeon dimension... they ate him." And with that, she burst into tears. She saw the event from Esmeralda's memory and now she knows why the crown princess has mentally retreated to her childhood. Octavia cried long into the night even with the Bang Galor tiger cuddling her.

Every day Nick went down to the main gallery where the two small caskets were sitting, they were in the middle of the gallery where the band plays during events. There was a line of mourners that wound back and forth, and hundreds of subjects stood in line for hours. The gallery was silent except for stifled weeping and sniffling. He stood watching and hating himself for not preventing this.

"Your majesties," said Nick as he stepped into the king's apartment.

Verance looked up from his lap, his eyes were hollow and dead. "What is it Sir Pommeraie?" asked Queen Magrat.

"Please come with me," said Nick, and he led the couple to the main gallery where, if possible, the lines were even longer. They saw dignitaries from all over the Ramtop mountains and the Sto Plains, then Nick saw the Emperor of the Agatean Empire, young Jia. The young emperor was completely shocked.

"What... what is this?" asked the king softly.

"It's love, sire. The people love you and weep with you."

Verance and Magrat watched the mourners approach the tiny coffins guarded by pure white flames, two guards stood by the coffins, their armor polished to mirror brightness, the men actually fight for the chance to stand guard over their little princes for hours at a stretch. Verance held Magrat close as someone noticed them called out, "We love you, sire!"

When Jia reached the coffins, he threw himself on the ground, weeping. "My brother! My brother!" Weeping just as hard as Jia, Nick scooped up the young emperor and carried him back to his apartment, where they could rest.

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After two weeks, the king called a meeting of the remaining court. The king was cold and businesslike. "First, the barony of Überskeld will become a fiefdom of Wægn, as will the barony of Thrash. Sir Pommeraie, you have the entire hubward side of Lancre to manage."

"Thank you, your majesty," said Nick, not feeling thankful at all. Wægn was now 50% larger, with an added level of bureaucracy.

"I will provide you with the names of the families that will take over. I want Thrash and Überskeld to be run as successfully as the rest of Wægn."

The king wasn't messing around. He looked at Lord Baltimore and said, "The viscountcy of Stormchester is now a fiefdom of Pellingham. I expect our rimward borders to be as secure as our hubward borders. Additionally, I have informed the Parliament and the House of Lords that their replacements for mister Cadence and Viscount Laird will be honest, loyal to the crown, and patriotic to Lancre. If their replacements do not meet these requirements, I will dissolve parliament and the house of lords."

"Your majesty," said Lord Harcourt, Earl of Mallburg, "Lord Laird was not part of the insurrection... was he?"

"No, but he did not rise to the defense of the crown, either. I can't have weaklings in my court."

All members of the coup were removed from royal society, their families were in exile. Dissolving parliament wasn't much of a threat, the people of Lancre want a king to run the country, not a committee. Why else have a king? The people of Wægn enjoy having a competent duke to run their duchy, however, many didn't realize how lucky they were.

"My new head of National Security will be Earl Buckminster Hargrave and my international affairs advisor will be Marquis Nathanaël Cyriaque. They will be joining us next week." Nick smiled when he said that. He knew that Nathanaël had ties to Überwald, he may even be a werewolf, but being married to a cousin of the king, his loyalty to Lancre was not in question.

As the meeting drew to a close, Nick said, "Your highness, Duchess Octavia and I need to return to our home, we need to plan on visiting Thrash and Überskeld, and our chief of detectives says her work is piling up on her."

"Thank you, Duke and Duchess Warblehat-Stein. I'm sure your folks at home are missing you."

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Sam placed an enormous bag full of gold coins in front of Nick. "I placed that bet for you."

Nick looked at the heavy canvas sack and sighed a deep sad sigh. "It's not enough to buy the king's smile back."

"Pommy, you are doing the only thing that a friend can do. You're standing by him through thick or thin. Eventually he'll pry his way out of the nightmare, and maybe the queen will too."

Nick looked at the sack and sipped his drink. "You got some balls on you to bring that much gold into the Mended Drum."

"You could at least buy me a drink."

"Sure," said Nick. "Do you have change for a doubloon?"

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The first day of the month of Spune was hot that year, perfect for a Mole Shouter's Day festival. Mole Shouter's Day is the start of the harvest season and in Wægn they celebrate the day huge. People from all over the Duchy came to the capital village of Creel Springs to celebrate and welcome their new brothers and sisters in the Baronies of Thrash and Überskeld to being part of the Duchy of Wægn. With the addition of those two holdings, Wægn became the largest duchy in the kingdom in land size, but still the smallest in the population. There were games and prizes, a parade, there was a Mole Shouting contest (won by a fellow from Sto Kyl) and a large beer tent where food was served, drink was sold, and the proceeds raised went to the new watch house in Überskeld and funds to move Midpoint watch house from the middle of nowhere to the railroad district of Thrash.

Nick missed much of the celebration. He had a first-time mother in labor and a nervous father in full panic mode, and no amount of soothing could calm him down. He eventually called for a second witch, Matilda Potts, to entertain the husband, Preston Prescott. Octavia showed up with Marlon to help, too.

When Annabelle finally entered the final stages of labor, Nick had Preston hold Annabelle up in a semi-seated position. "That helped a lot," said Nick.

"How many times have you done this?" asked Preston.

"A few," said Nick. In fact, in his first year as a witch, he delivered over a dozen babies. This second year is getting off to a great start. "This is my busy time of year," said Nick. "There's something about Hogswatch day and the entire month of Ick to bring out the babies in Spune. It's almost like a harvest festival."

"Will you shut up!" screeched Annabelle as a huge contraction came over her.

"Here's comes baby, it's got its mother's hair." A movement to his left caused Nick to glance to the left and there on the side of the bed was Marlon, peeking over the side, watching everything. "One last one, Annabelle, give me one last push."

"I can't do it," gasped Annabelle. "I have nothing left."

"You can do it, little girl," said Nick. "I'll help and fill this room with Dingaroo scent, and we'll see what you have left. "

Annabelle glared at Preston with eyes of murder. "You Told Him???" she demanded, then suddenly the last contraction hit.

"Here it comes... here it comes... you have a daughter!" Matilda helped Nick with the umbilical cord, "Give your daughter a name, daddy!"

"Annette!" called Preston through his joyful tears, "her name is Annette!" As little Annette cried in shock and terror, the witches washed up the baby as the little girl cried out her anger and fear.

"That's a magnificent set of lungs on this one!" laughed Nick as he handed the baby to his friends. Annette's crying caused Marlon to start crying too, and he scrambled over to Octavia as fast as he could on hands and knees.

"It's ok, she is just scared, see? She's looking at her mommy now." Marlon took his mother's words to heart, but he gnawed on his thumb and considered the issue. He finally scrambled off his mother's lap and crawled over to the bed where Annabelle and Preston were admiring their new daughter.

He pulled himself up and stood at the side of the bed, taking in everything, his eyes wide and his mouth a little o of surprise. "Do you want to see?" asked Preston, and he lifted Marlon to his lap and Marlon considered the little blond girl laying on Aunt Annabelle's chest. Was she looking at him? Her little hand moved toward Marlon, neither by intent nor by accident. It just moved, and Marlon leaned forward and put his hand on hers.

"Her name is Annette," said Uncle Preston. "I'm sorry, but she won't be able to play for a little while."

Neither Annette nor Marlon knew it at the time, but they had an entire lifetime to play ahead of them.