Gary Gygax awakened in his bedroom the next morning and looked over at the empty side of the bed. "Until you return home, Faramaurea, I will wait." He then arose, dressed, and walked out of Faramaurea's old room.

An hour later, he sat on the throne, receiving a status report on the children. "Though the children have split up, they will have to meet up at some point, if they intend to take back the throne. However, we have no further intel on either of them, since their brief stay in Drakoria, and Elorean's flight. As for Métimafoa and his older sister, we have heard nothing since we received the intel that they were roaming near the Castle of Chameleons."

"Damn. " Gary cursed, his human side showing for a moment; then the moment was gone. "Oh well. We have other things to attend to in the interim. Have all of those who resisted my rule fallen in with the flock?"

"There are still some stragglers, mi'lord, but for the most part, they have fallen into line. Since the famine, it seems as though most of the people, myself included, just want to rebuild our lives."


Gary thought for a moment. "Perhaps I can assist you all in doing so. Have a list of all Castle positions that were opened due to... the famine, sent to me."

. . .

An hour later, Gary walked along the streets of Meneltarma, in the lower districts, and he was deep in thought. Perhaps I was hasty in my dealings with the heirs. They could have helped me in ruling the people. Faramaurea crossed his mind. Especially with her. I fell for her and took her, but she was not mine to take. He saw red, but not in rage, more like a river of blood, and he sighed. That price was paid in blood though, and not by me. I came in, seeking to save lives, by taking over the throne, so that I had the power to do so. A tear slid down his cheek, and he wiped it away. "I'm so sorry." He whispered to himself.

Then he steeled himself. I must not allow the people to see me cry. I must be as firm in public, as I am in my rule

At that moment, a siren sounded, and he was surrounded by guards, but they kept going, heading to the lower district. He stopped a younger guard, and asked, "What's wrong? Where are you all going?"

"Shopkeeper Luthanteryn's shop had an incident involving the unloading of black dragon spit. She uses it for-"

Gary held up a hand and cut him off. "That is unimportant. Is she alright?"

"We were given only the basics. I do not know yet, sir."

"Lead the way." Gary directed him, but as the soldier sprinted away, Gary realised that his youthful vigour was fading, and the soldier had disappeared from sight. Gary tried for a moment to follow, but he had no idea where the young man had gone. Then he noticed the cloud of black steam, and a smell of putrescence so powerful that he would have gaged, had he not steeled himself moments before. He covered his mouth and nose with his flowery left sleeve and ran toward the scene.

When he arrived there were guards trying to hold back the horde of disgruntled elves, who were trying to cross the street or to get closer to this latest source of excitement. He ran up to the nearest Lieutenant. "Lieutenant Turulië, reroute a detour around the road and lead it up by the old temple grounds. The only people allowed on this street for the time being are those who live here, and government officials. I want this crowd gone in ten minutes. Go!" 

He turned back toward the rubble and stepped in a pile of melted dolostone. He calmly wiped it off his shoe and continued onward to the woman kneeling in the remainder of her house.

"Lady Luthanteryn, are you alright?" He called, his voice proud but empathetic.

"How can I be?" She spat. She whirled around; as she did it she recognised him. In one fluid motion, she dropped down onto one knee and bowed her head, which barely put her at beneath his chest. "I'm sorry, mi'lord. I did not know it was you." The second comment was made in a much calmer voice, but Luthanteryn's voice was still far from calm. 

Gary grimaced. Not that I could blame her, he thought to himself, before gesturing for her to rise. "Tell me, Lady Luthanteryn, what are you going to do now that your shop lies in ruins?"

"I don't know, Your Majesty. This shop was all I had. I was raised by my parents in this shop, who were in turn raised by my grandparents in this shop. It has travelled down from generation to generation in this family, ever since it was won in a dice game some 4000 years ago. It was all my family or me had."

"Well, the loss was almost deserved, seeing as you were smuggling an illegal ingredient into the kingdom walls, and by doing so, endangering everyone's land and property, as well as their well-being." Gary gestured for her to follow him, and two of the city guards helped her out of the rubble. He turned back to her. "However, I believe we can come to an arrangement. How would you like a job at the castle?" 

The Dragonborn apothecary looked at him. "As what, Your Majesty? I will not stoop as to be one of your concubines."

In a flash, Gary was right in front of her; his hand lying on the hilt of his dagger. "Do not assume to know my plans or desires. For your information, I have been completely loyal to my wife, and I have not been with any other woman. I await the return of my beloved Faramaurea." He took a step back, glancing around, at the guards, who looked at him in shock. Straightening his robes, he continued. "Unfortunately for me, the previous castle residents ran the castle for the most part. This left the castle severely understaffed when their abrupt and mildly unfortunate demises occurred. That being as it is, I am in need of a castle apothecary, and I believe you could serve me well in that station. What say you?"

Luthanteryn glanced at the guards surrounding her. "What are my other options?"

Gary pondered her question for a moment, before answering "Well, I suppose I could have you arrested for smuggling illegal substances into the kingdom, and for damaging public property." He gestured to the melted road. "So, I ask you again: do you accept my offer?" She nodded, but with an air of defeat, instead of the enthusiasm he had expected. This puzzled him, but he did not question it. He looked toward the guards at her side "If you would escort Lady Luthaneryn to her new chambers; I will call upon her at my leisure."

With that, Gary walked away, leaving the smoke, ash, and goo behind him.

. . .

Later that night, Gary lay in bed, the thoughts in his head whirling at such a rate that he could not find the slumber that eluded him. Every time he thought he was close to it, a new thought would assault him, and the rest he sought would bound away on soft, Sylvian feet. Where are they? How are they? Why will they not return? What would I do if they did return? Will Faramaurea ever return to me? If she does; will it be willingly? 

He sat up and rang a small gong emblazoned with his family crest of a dodecahedron with the sides numbered, and the number on the front is a twenty. The number twenty was their grandfather's division number under King Nesbitt, the previous tyrant of Meneltarma, and they had selected it in memory of their days of power. 

As a gnomish servant entered the chamber, he ordered her "Have Lady Luthaneryn send me a sleeping-draught." He paused for a moment as the servant went to exit, and said: "Make sure she does not make this issue well known."

He collapsed back upon his feather pillows and looked at the room around him. The sandstone walls looked blue in their moonlight illumination, which came in from the lighting slits on the walls. Banners hung on the wall, his family crest having replaced the glowing river-stone of his predecessors, and in between the banners lay an inscription, with one word carved in between each banner. Strength is not found in solidarity, but in companionship. It was a remnant of The Line of Estelondo's rule, and according to legend, it would glow green in the presence of the Royal family. But that was just part of the legendarium.

It was as he was thinking about the remainder of their lore that Lady Luthaneryn burst through the door, carrying a small vial in her hand. She made for his bed, but the glass of the vial slipped through her scaled hands, and she tried to regain a grip on it but failed. The vial shattered on the ground and left a small pool of silvery-grey liquid and glass where it had fallen. Her vocal tone became dark and threatening. "Nifradaras!"She spat out in draconic, and then she bowed a little, and apologised, saying: "Sorry, Your Majesty. I will go grab some more from my cauldron."

With that, she walked out of the door, and re-entered moments later, this time with a larger vial, and set it on his nightstand. "In order to minimise the negative effects, you should make sure to drink plenty of tea tomorrow morning, or I am afraid you may wake to quite a nasty migraine."

Gary eyed the bottle, desperate for the promise of its peace, but he showed restraint for the moment. "Thank you, Luthaneryn. You may return to your chamber." She went to bow, but he held up a hand. "You do not need to concern yourself with such formalities in private. Close the door behind you, if you would."

The moment the door was closed, Gary seized the potion and downed it in a matter of seconds. He was surprised by the taste; he had quite expected it to be bitter, but it was, in fact, delicate and sweet, like a spring flower salad. I wonder how long it will take before it shows a noticeable effect? That was the last conscious thought he had, as he slumped back against his pillows, the bottle shattering off of his bed frame, and falling from his hands much as he had fallen into a deep slumber. 

. . .

Gary Gygax stood in a clearing of trees in a forest. It was early evening and the last rays of sunlight crept over the autumn leaves and bathed the trees in beams of orange and red that intensified the colours of the leaves. To anyone else, this was a beautiful dream, a gift from Martamo.

But to Gary, it was the beginning of a reoccurring nightmare that had haunted his dreams for the past three years. It had been a long three years since the nightmare had begun, but the most terrifying thing about this nightmare was not the monsters, the magic, or the blood. It was not even the force of the memory that burned him. It was the reminder that he had yet to achieve his ultimate motive of revenge.

Then into the woods she came, a maiden fair, her raiment green, of fire her hair. She wore no shoes as she sang her song, a melody beauteous, uplifting and strong. It was for her Gary first felt desire, a maiden to whom his wife could only aspire. 

He knew it was not real. He knew it would only worsen the pain, but still, he shouted out "Hunawen! Hunawen!" Her named he cried, and she turned toward him, but not as a result of his vocalised plea. A much younger version of himself stepped out from behind a tree, and walked slowly toward her, not as though to sneak up on her, but in caution. She stopped her song and looked at him as though uncertain how to respond to his arrival.

The younger version of him spoke quietly in an elven dialect belonging to the wood-elves. "Glindel na sestima erand di vanessë..." He trailed off, awaiting her reaction.

She walked toward him, her pace slow and deliberate, as her green eyes scanned over his face. "You speak Elvish like a student, but better than most of the race of man." She looked him in the eyes with curiosity. "Who taught you?"

Gary watched his younger form smile, as he extended a hand toward her. "My Elven father taught me, ere he left to fight in King Nesbitt's force, and was slain. My name is Gary Gygax by the way. You are?..."

"Your father fought for Nesbitt the Cruel? The slayer of elves? How dare you associate with us, the fey who your father slaughtered?" She ran away from both Gygaxes', leaving the younger one's hand extended, but unintentionally taking his heart with her.

The image whirled, and Gary was watching his younger self, and his mother dining that night. He watched himself gesturing extravagantly as he described the fairness of the fey girl. "I wish to court her, Mother."

His mother did not even flinch. "Yes, I suppose you do. Just as your older brother, Lary wanted to court Jasmine Hildebrandt and your older sister, Mary wished to court Caledon Braeside. Do you know what happened to those two, Gary?"

"I believe they married Highland lords and were executed as traitors." Gary tried to recall their fates, but he could not remember what had become of them with any sense of certainty. "To be honest, I never followed their histories, but I believe they were listed among the traitors. I did not care since they did not end up marrying Lary and Mary anyway. But this is different, Mother, because I will marry..." He trailed off, as he realised that he never even found out her name.

"Oh dear. You did at least catch her name, correct?"

"Well, no," Gary admitted hesitantly, wishing he had not mentioned his father earlier. "She kind of stormed off when I mentioned our allegiance to King Nesbitt."

"What!" His mother exclaimed, standing up and slamming her goblet so hard that the stoneware container cracked. "No son of mine will marry a Symvoulite! King Nesbitt has held, or rather had held our family's loyalty for the entirety of his reign, and your children will not be raised to believe that he was a monster. He was a hero, who sought to secure the future of the Race of Man, at any cost." 

She stormed from the room and the younger Gary put his head in his hands to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. He spoke so quietly that the elder Gary could not hear him, but he knew this story well enough to know what was said. "Damnedable woman! She fails to remember that I am of both races." With that comment, he arose and stormed from the room, and the image changed again.

Gary Gygax found himself floating in the woods, and quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. I may be invisible to all here, but I can act like a King for my own sake. I must be steeled in my resolve. From over the hills, he heard a song, and his heart ached at the beauty of the melody. 

"O'er brush and hill, o'er creek and stream,
the sun will shine, a brilliant beam
Of light. O' Sweet Light, which gives freely such life,

And chases away all straught and strife

Its glory shines bright o'er the wood,
which I fill with song, as all should,
but its clear beauty is only made more fair
by Hunawen, of the Fiery hair

As opening eyes on birth's morn,
it gaily shines on through the storm,
unhindered by—"

Hunawen stopped singing and glared toward the young Gary, who sat on a tree branch watching her. "How did you find me?"

Gary smirked sardonically "Well, you were singing and I am half-elven, so with my hearing it was not altogether difficult." She rolled her eyes but he saw a flicker of a smile in spite of herself. "I take it that you are cursed with the name 'Hunawen,' then?"

Her distrust remained, but still, she answered. "Yes, though I wish you had never known it. There is great power in knowing a person's name, 'Gary Gygax.' You should be more careful with yours." She turned to walk away, and the invisible Gary saw his younger form become desperate.

"Please don't leave!" He cried out, the desperation in his voice causing his words to run together

She turned back toward him, and met him eye to eye, though she was actually slightly taller than he was. "And why should I not, Gary? What reason have I to stay?"

"Because... Because I am in love with you!"

She openly laughed at him. "First off, that is a reason for you to have me stay, not a reason for me to stay. You found out my name mere moments ago, and yet you claim to know me well enough to be in love with me?"

Gary watched his younger form lower his eyes. "Well, yes, but... er—" He caught himself off to collect his thoughts before saying: "But what of true love at first sight?"

He raised his eyes to meet hers, hope radiant in his, but unrequited. "True Love, at First sight, is a pretty phrase for a deplorable thing. It is no more than strong feelings of lust between two impulsive, yet occasionally compatible people." She stared at him in irritation "It is a sullying of the word 'love,' and a gross misuse of it."

"Isn't that a little bit cynical, Hunawen?"

"Aren't your ideas a little bit romanticised, Gary?"

He looked around the woods in exasperation. "Well, if you do not believe that I love you; are you willing to take the chance and be my friend, and see if feelings develop?"

She looked at him and could not help but smile. "You are certainly persistent, Gary Gygax. How about we make a deal; we will meet every Tuesday, from now on, for one hour, at sunset. Agreed?"

Gary's younger form looked uncomfortable. "Actually, Tuesdays do not work well for me. Could we do Thursdays instead?" 

She chuckled at his discomfort and extended a hand, which he shook. "Thursdays, then." With that, she fled on faerie feet and was quickly gone from sight.

Gary watched many more scenes, of many Thursdays. He watched Gary fall in love with her, and she with him, though everytime he asked her, she denied it. Finally, after what seemed like hours of blissful remembrance on the braes of a hill, he found himself in the halls of his home, and the dread returned. He saw himself walking down the hallway to his mother's room and pausing near the door, he leaned in to listen. The elder Gary stood right in front of him listening to his mother's words, but he knew them well at this point. Instead, he watched himself and watched his reaction to them.

"...two of them have been spending too much time together. I warned Gary about this, but still, he pursues this 'Cursed Maiden.' And the worst thing is; I think he's won her over. I have no choice but to interfere, for the sake of this family."

A female voice answered hers, cautious and with some trepidation. "What are you going to do, Sarriah? If you cannot deter him in this meeting; what can you do to stop him?"

"If it is love," His mother began, selecting her words carefully, "Then there is only one thing that can stop it."

"Marriage?" 

They both cackled like two old crones watching the world burn but when they had settled down, Sarriah's voice took on a slightly malicious tone. "I was thinking of something more... permanent."

The younger Gary realised what she meant a without a word, took off running for the front door. As Gary watched this in his dream form, but he waited by the door of the room where his mother was. His mother ran out to the door. Turning to a guard, she said: "Go and quickly contact Angston Dresion. Tell him to follow my son, and that he will be paid when the girl is dead." The guard nodded and ran out the door, and at that moment, the vision changed. 

End Part One Due to word count restrictions. Part Two, or rather, Chapter XII, will be published shortly.