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A Seafaring SagaChapter 4: Viktor Okzskcarouldghf
Viktor Okzskcarouldghf looked at the scroll in front of him, not sure what he felt. He had just been informed that he was no longer part of the Eastern Knight’s Kingdom army. He had been discharged honorably, of course. On the one hand, Viktor was saddened that his king no longer had any need for him. However, he had served his country long and loyally, fighting in any battle that plagued the often-abused Kingdom. Pirates often preyed upon the Easterners, whom the incorrectly considered weak. The rest of Dametreos, not even the Classic Emperor, bothered to send aid when the pirate Violess had invaded Barleyburg. They all considered the Easterners somewhat of a joke.
Viktor grinned as he rolled up the parchment. Yes, he’d taught those megabloks pirates a lesson. After the fool Jayko, the so-called governor of Talonjay Castle, had fled, Viktor had been sent with a battalion of King Matthias’s own elite guard and had promptly sent Violess and his scurvy band back to their rotten hulks and away from the great Spiral Bay. That had been the last battle before the notice had arrived. His whole life he had spent on the mainland Eastern territory, only traveling to the provincial island once, and that had been a miserable experience.
Yes, it was time to be out of the army, it is time to go out on my own. thought Viktor.
It took a few days to pack up and leave his small Tudor house in the hands of a close friend, but at last, on the seventh day of the first month of the year two thousand and five, Viktor Okzskcarouldghf, former general in His Majesty’s Royal Army, withdrew an arrow from the quiver strapped to his back, nocked it, and shot it into the sky. He did this as a he spun in a circle, using the age-old technique of simply letting the fates decide his path. Apparently the fates were against him. After the vertigo has ceased, Viktor’s face fell when he saw the arrow land open see with a plop. Viktor Okzskcarouldghf’s stomach, like many Easterners, didn’t agree with the sea.
Viktor was onshore at last! A whole month, an entire month he had spent on the hellspawn ship known as the White Lilly, traversing the watery mass of nausea known as the Spiral Bay. Now he was ashore, on firm ground, where Chodan had meant men to be.
“I’m not sure I like adventures.” he remarked to one of his companions, a Western Knight’s Kingdomer who would only go by Tim E.
“You’ll get used to ‘em.” Tim E. quipped, his freckled face wrinkling into a grin, “Sailing is prob’ly the hardest part...there’s all those blinkin’ terms -- heave to, avast ye, two points to starboard, all that mumbo-jumbo. Plus yer always runnin’ the risk of dashing her bottom to pieces...‘specially with all this shipwrights doin’ dumb things like not building with one-piece hulls. I mean, how dumb is that...?”
Tim E. began to ramble off, criticizing the lack of appreciation for what he called ‘structurally solid building components’. Viktor had met Tim E. on board the White Lilly right after cast-off. The soon became fast friends, for they soon found out they were alike in many ways. They were both men who felt they were under-appreciated, they both had a strong dislike of the Classics, and they both had no stomach for water and all the ill-affects it caused. They spent many a day at the head, pale green, exchanging vignettes of their past. Tim E. was an architect who specialized in these types of building materials with a particular skill in producing large castle sections that were made out of a single block of stone. He claimed his methods were cost-saving, but many of the older factions like the Black Falcons and Classic LEGOlanders had rejected his claims and had continued making buildings brick by brick. Tim E. was popular, however, in the many southern mainland factions such as both Knight’s Kingdoms and the Fright Knights. Tim E. was now being hired by the Crusaders to construct some buildings with his cheaper material, for their national deficit was reaching record highs and they needed the cheapest they could get.
Viktor let Tim E. rambled on all the while let ambled the streets of the city of Brunshire looking for a suitable pub. Viktor had often read that adventures started out in pubs, but he wanted his adventure to start in a pub that fit his rather high standards. Brunshire was a cleaner and better laid out town than Denderham and Farburg to the north, and consequently had wealthier residents and better pubs, much to Viktor’s pleasure. They entered a two-story building labeled the Printed Tile and found a corner table. Tim E. at last shut up when a frothy brew was placed in front of him and they clinked glasses companionably.
“So, Viktor, where be ye headed on the morrow?” asked Tim E. after he had swigged down the contents of his mug with one quick gulp.
Viktor scratched his scraggly red beard and shrugged beneath his worn plate maille.
“Dunno really...I’ve been waiting for an adventure to strike me every day since we left Bjornskoff, but nothing has happened. No pirates, no sea monsters, no mutiny. Megabloks, we didn’t even run into a storm or catch fire!”
“Pity.” sighed Tim E., signaling the comely barmaid for refill, “Though I thank Chodan there was no storm...just imagine the swells!”
“You’re making turn green again…” groaned Viktor, and downed his own drink.
“Seriously, what will you do? Gossip says there’s snow only a few miles north. Maybe you could tackle a yeti.”
“Might as well head south while I’m at it.” agreed Viktor, “I’ve never seen snow before, much less had an adventure in it...must be interesting…”
“We can stick together until Port Crowne. Then you can either stay with me or continue onward.” suggested Tim E.
“That’s sounds good…” affirmed Viktor, sipping at his refill.
After they finished their drinks, they spilled some coins on the table as payment and were just exiting the door when Viktor caught a snatch of conversation from one of the other tables.
“Bloody fool, ‘e is, Matthias…”
“Couldn’t agree more, mate. That fat Jellybean should hire ‘imself out as court jester to the Emperor, ‘e’d be more suited to that than ruling an empire!”
“Haha! That’s a good ‘un, mate!”
Viktor turned stiff. His eyes blazed, and everything about him turned redder in fury, even his hair. With long strides he reentered the inn and soundly punched one of the men off his stool with a crack. The man’s eye bulged, his breath coming in tight gasps. His companion leapt up with a cry and drew out a rapier.
“You son of a megabloks, wot wos--!?!”
Viktor drew out his own thick broadsword and smashed it into the man’s blade. The flimsy weapon snapped, and Viktor knocked the hilt and stub of a blade out of the man’s hand before punching the man in stomach with his free hand. The man fell backwards over the bar, gurgling as his ribs broke. Viktor, his eyes ablaze, pressed his sword to the man throat.
“How dare you, you scum, you megabloks, you shifty-brick, how dare you insult my king?! I will remove your best-lock mouth from your--”
“Now...er, Viktor…”
Tim E. tapped the furious Eastern Knight’s Kingdomer on the shoulder carefully.
“Let it be...let’s just go before…”
“You Jelly-lover!” gasped out the first man on the floor.
Viktor whirled about and bashed his foot into the man’s groin and was about to thrust his blade downward when a bottle whooshed by his ear, hitting a bystander in the face. It was as if a sudden order was shouted, for the whole pub erupted into a fight scene right out of once of Viktor’s books. Chairs were thrown and weapons drawn, while the barmaids screamed and the portly own simply shrank behind the bar. Viktor was now fighting willy-nilly, mostly with his fists, but also with the occasional stab. He felled three men, then a tingling in the back of his neck caused him to turn. Another man was right next to him and was about to bring down a chair upon Viktor when suddenly a long, oblong board thunked down upon the man’s head.
“See, these 1x2x5s are good for something!” grinned Tim E.
He jumped over the limp man and shouted at Viktor, “Let’s get the tyco out of here before the coppers arrive!”
Viktor nodded sharply and they both dashed out the door. As the Printed Tile disappeared behind them, Viktor grinned and said, “Adventures really do start in pubs!”
“So this is where the Crusader king lives, eh?”
It was a week later, and Viktor Okzskcarouldghf and Tim E. were approaching the large fortified port city of Crowne.
“Nah, he lives inland somewhere…” replied Tim E.
“Now that’s strange, I though all kings lived in the capitals of their lands.”
“Beats me, and I don’t really care. As long as they pay me for what I’ve come here to do, I’m satisfied…”
Their entrance into the city was unhindered, and once inside they promptly got lost within the maze of stone walls, cobbled streets, dead-end alleys and Tudor-style houses. After an hour of fruitless wondering, they were forced to ask for directions. At last they were set on the right path, and finally, when it was near dusk, the two friends came upon what they were looking for; a brick-built building with a shingled roof identified as “General Contractor -- Stratford & Sons”.
“Right, this is the place.” stated Tim E. He looked a bit nervous.
“I won’t interfere.” promised Viktor, “In fact, I’ll just be in the pub across the street -- the King’s Goblet…”
“Right…” agreed Tim E., “Just don’t go and kill anybody…”
“I’ll only kill those who deserve it…” growled Viktor, and strode off.
Viktor kept his word and didn’t kill anyone that night, though he did engage in a violent fist fight that caused some nasty black eyes, cracked ribs and loosened teeth, luckily none his own. After helping the innkeeper to through the last unconscious body out into an alley, Viktor returned to the pub and ordered a drink.
“So…” said the bartender, a sturdy man named Orson, “Yer a Eastern Knight’s Kingdomer, eh?”
He made a careful point not to use the derogatory terms ‘Jellybean’ or ‘Rainbower’, after seeing what Viktor could do to a dozen semi-drunk men.
“Aye, that I am.” nodded Viktor, chugging his brew.
“Ye pack a pretty punch…” continued Orson, wiping a glass.
“Aye…”
“Ye...aren’t like the other...Eastern Knight’s Kingdomer’s I've seen.”
Viktor looked up. Orson merely displayed a curious interest.
“Contrary to the popular -- and incorrect -- belief,” began Viktor, “Eastern Knight’s Kingdomers can kick some butt.”
Orson remembered a tale where seven rogue men who called themselves the Misfits had invaded Kingdom Isle and had managed to overrun the entire army of the provincial governor. He held his tongue, however, and did not mention this.
“Why,” Viktor continued, “Really, the rest of Dametreos should be thanking and praising the Easterners for our inventiveness! We were the ones who created Spinning Blades Of Death that forever changed the history of siege weapons! We were the ones who invented the wheeled horses, revolutionizing the transportation of goods! And it was our own Marta Stuart who perfected the art of instant decor using revolving walls to change the colors of castles!”
“...And then she was arrested when she tried to do the same to the Yellow Castle.” murmured Orson.
Viktor grew red, but could not think of any counter argument. He grabbed his mug and swigged of the rest of the brew, slamming the empty cup into the woodwork. At that moment Tim E. entered, grinning, and sat next to Viktor.
“Viktor, how goes ye?”
“Still fightin’” growled Viktor, still glaring at Orson, “What news?”
Tim E. grinned. “I got the job! I’ve got half a wharf, two boathouses, and a harbormaster’s station to build! I’m gonna be busy all summer!”
Tim E. rattled a few coins together. “Yes, this is certainly the time to be in the building business. Everyone’s rebuilding after the war!”
He took a swig of his own drink and continued, “I was lucky, too. The gov’ner here was looking into hiring Elsa Byrd, but he couldn’t stand ‘er and she cost too much, so I got the job instead!”
“That’s great, Tim!” grinned Viktor, pounding his friend on the back.
They fell silent for a while, then Viktor said, “Well, then...now that you have got what you want, perhaps I should go and get mine.”
“Still looking for adventure?” queried Tim E.
“Yeah...I might continue north...or might head inland...I don’t know really.”
“Well,” Tim E. smiled, “It’s been great knowin’ ya. I’ll been here all summer and perhaps the fall, but after that I’ll head home. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”
“I hope so.” grinned Viktor.
Then he flipped a coin to Orson the bartender, pounded Tim E. on the back one last time, and left the bar. For the rest of the day, Viktor wandered about the city of Port Crowne. Port Crowne was a big city, and a bustling port, and there was much too see. After Viktor had examined the docks and the less-than-respectable pubs and other seaside establishment, he headed back up the cobbled main street intent on leaving the city and heading inland. However, before coming to the gate, he passed by what appeared to be an open-air theatre, and he stopped, intrigued. Yes, it was a theatre, but the persons about it certainly weren’t preparing for a play. The entire complex was decked out in billowing colors of red, blue and yellow, the national colors of the Crusaders. Men and women clothed in smocks scrubbed away at one isle of stone circular seats while more persons carefully placed cushions upon seats already clean. On the stage itself, a platform had been erected, and men were struggling to heave what appeared to be a golden throne into an elevated position.
“What’s this?” asked Viktor, stopped a man carrying a bundle of cloth.
“Wot?” the man looked at Viktor in annoyance, “Where the bloody mega blocks ‘ave ye been? Dis be the site of the king’s coronation. T’was ‘posed to be May 8th ‘stead of ‘Pril 8th, but some megablocks moved the date uppa month!”
The man pushed past Viktor and continued on his way. Viktor turned his gaze back to the stage.
“A coronation, eh? On the 8th?” Viktor said to himself, “That’s only three days away. I can wait three days before leaving…”
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