Diaries of an Olde Widow
”Lore of Dukes.”
…. …. ….
‘Sneaky, sneaky,’ whispers the foul fowl as Fae tiptoes over to the Olde Widow’s desk, having bypassed her myriad traps, oddly placed trinkets, braziers emitting narcotic fumes, and a sprinkling of flour on the floor that would alert her to an intruder’s presence. Most of the traps he could avoid, as for the flour—well, he had some in a pouch on his belt.
Seated at her desk, he adjusted her pillow beneath his bony derriere and flicked his sleeves in the same manner he had witnessed the widow herself do on multiple occasions.
He opened the book on her desk, a heavy tome covered in a rare lizard’s leather with the dull sounding ‘High Nobles of Al’Khezam’ embossed in gold on the front. Such a book must contain the most delicious of secrets, the young boy thought, gleefully imagining what he would do with all the information inside—impoverished beginnings, children born out of wedlock, mistresses, murder and mayhem—all could be contained within this book that was always chained to the Olde Widow’s desk.
Fae turned to the page in which a feather bookmark rested and wet his lips in anticipation. Those berry stained lips pursed in confusion, sputtered and then frowned in disgust as he swiftly realised that this book was a mere record of the dukes, their tribes and their collective pasts—with none of the delightful intrigue of a spymaster’s musings. Just a dreary, dry account as one would find in a historian’s lair.
Peering about her office in frustration, his eyes widened at the sight of a new device standing on a tripod, facing a window. Lengthy, tubular, and made of gleaming brass, Fae danced over to it and tried to work out what it was used for. “To see the stars” his ‘best friend’ the Owl whispered, perched on the young boy’s shoulders. Fae peered through one end and then the other, jumping back in alarm when his vision cleared, and he realised he was looking into the neighbour’s bed chamber. “What—what are they doing?” he muttered, peering once more through the smaller end. “No—never mind, I don’t want to know.”
Looking up at the Owl, he laughed and said, “I don’t think it’s the stars the old lady looks at. Spying on all of Dilmunia, maybe.”
The Owl hopped off his shoulder and flew over to a box that had a paper in it. Curiosity aroused, Fae followed carefully and without triggering an alarm, and then bent over to see what the paper said. The name of the brass item was a ‘telescope’ and it could indeed be used to view the stars, it was an aide to the science of Astronomy. “I’ll have to ask her to teach me more,” Fae said. “I would love to see the Tulip Constellation clearly.”
Glancing back at the big, ponderous tome, our delightful young intemperate friend got a sudden ‘brilliant’ idea. ‘If nothing interesting is in this book of history, then we shall have to discover the information for ourselves. I know, we’ll have a contest.’
Fetching a sheet of vellum from the Olde Widow’s special supply, Fae fearlessly put her best quill in her most prized ink and then began to write in a script that was identical to hers (the word ‘forgery’ was not part of his regular vocabulary when he did not wish it to be).
‘To all the Dukes of Al’Khezam,
You have performed your duties well, and your exploits are recounted, sung of and written by the most esteemed artists of our lands. And yet, in our grand historical records, much of what is recorded is dates and grand deeds only. To achieve true legacy, we the people also request that you give us more information, more of your innermost selves and even a few choice titbits.
Here in Al'Khezam a solstice is a signal to celebrate. Yet when the days are long and the sun is casting its harsh light on us, we seek the shade and what has proven better than our own people to shield us from the elements through the tilling of the land, growing of crops, fisheries, building our houses and tending to our children? . And how can we return the favour better than opening our sequestered lives to them just a little and welcoming them into our lives, hearts, minds and plans?"
I, the Olde Widow, call for a contest of wits for the whole nation to enjoy. A contest that each of you Dukes are invited to partake of. I invite all of Al’Khezam to think of and submit a question they have always wanted to ask one of our Dukes. The Duke with the wittiest, most interesting or emotive response shall win a prize, that of the chance to bequeath a beautiful telescope and astronomy kit to any of the venerated or new astronomers of Al’Khezam. Your name will be blessed by those who study the stars forever.
To aid this contest along, here are the first of the questions. I urge everyone reading this to submit their own as well to the Owl Library. Let’s see what we can find out of our beloved members of the Royal Court….’
Fae looked up, lost in thought. What was really needed in order to make history come alive? What was it he most wanted to discover about the Dukes he had heard so much about? Then again, he wasn’t sure he could carry this subterfuge that far. Surely all would know it wasn’t the Olde Widow if he asked would they rather be a foul smelling rose or sweet-smelling slug? What would the Olde Widow want to know….?
‘If it’s to work, you must ask her questions. Think like an old woman, hyuh hyuh,’ the wise old owl hissed.
‘Fine, I guess half the fun is seeing if this will actually work,’ Fae said and then bent his head to the task.
Questions for the Dukes of Al’Khezam
1) How Many Dukes, Counts and Barons’ pledges do you own?
2) How and why did you decide to join your current kingdom? What were the Community/Tribes/Governing features that appealed to you the most?
3) How did you decide on your current Crest and Duchy symbol? What is the meaning behind the symbols and how does it pertain to you?
4) How did/would you come to decide on your Duchy location within the kingdom? Which part of our topography and people appealed to you (The coast? The tribe in it? The land mass?) and what do you intend to do with the land you have?
5) What would be the most interesting geographical feature you’d wish for within your Duchy? Why?
6) How do you plan to give back to your Community, your people and the Kingdom? (Before there is a game, and after)
7) Have you accomplished anything for your Duchy in the past that you are proud of, or are presently working on any project for the benefit of your kingdom, people and land?
A. If yes, please share with us.
B. Would you be interested in involving more of your kingdom members to contribute to your project?
8) Please Rank Tribes available to you (within your Kingdom) from most to least preferred.
a. What are the three most interesting features that interest you in your chosen tribe?
9) What would you do to encourage members’ engagement within your Kingdom?
10) In Al'Khezam every duke will have the liberty to appoint Counts from within his own Duchy to represent the nobles at the House of Lords. Would you appoint those Counts by yourself or would you run elections on a Duchy-wide level within your own community?
11) Share a name of one of your Duchy’s most exciting projects (Organization/Association/or Guild)
12) If you were to ask your brethren Duke two questions, what would you ask?
13) Which of the other Dukes of Al’ Khezam would you want to collaborate with? What project would you like to undertake with him or her?
14) Which project would you like to put forward for the whole nation to contribute to? How will it help Al’Khezam?
Signed,
The Olde Widow
“It’s dark, it’s dark. I’s can’ts sees,” the owl began to hiss, bringing Fae out of his dreamlike state.
“What—who—oh it’s only you. You can see in the dark you dumb beast.”
Looking around in surprise, Fae realised that the sun was just about to set and that the first of the stars were already twinkling in the twilight sky. “Damn, I’ll be hung by my toes if she catches me, he muttered as he began to tidy the desk, leaving the notice of contest in her outgoing mail, hoping against all hope that she would send it out without realising it. His eyes alighted on the telescope once more and he raced over to it, putting his eye to the device once more. His breath caught as he looked upon the multitude of stars gazing down on Dulminia, his favourite constellation brightest of all. Yes, he would very much like to learn more about the stars and he would dearly love a telescope of his own. Maybe he could drop a few hints to the Olde Widow ahead of his naming day.
Returning to the heavy book on the desk, he turned to the back page, dipped the quill once more and wrote, “Through all their exploits, triumphs and heartaches, they were led by the constellation of Tulip.”
‘Quick, Quicks,’ hissed the owl, as he began flapping his wings in consternation. Fae looked about wildly, noting the quill, the ink, the mess on the desk, the book opened and the feather in the wrong page. Oh, the floor. Not one speck of flour had been left untouched.
Cursing profoundly, Fae began to rush about the office, putting everything back exactly the way he found it, using his own shirt to mop up the spilled ink on the normally pristine desk. He looked at his forged notice once more, making sure he hadn’t left any tell-tale splotches on the expensive vellum. With a sigh of relief, he folded it carefully once more and then left it on the bottom of the pile, placing each letter and missive in the same position it was in before he disturbed it.;
Desk done; it was time to clear up the mess on the floor. First, he swept the flour into a neat pile, polishing the floor until it shone (with his now filthy shirt) and then he gently brushed the flour back over the floor in a zig-zag pattern until he reached the door. Opening it softly, he closed it every so gently, hoping nothing was disturbed by his actions.
He tiptoed down the stairs, but instead of turning to the seat in the hall he usually sat in, he went through the inn, stopping only to change his shirt, grab a blanket, a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread, striding calmly outside the front door, past the guards and then into the courtyard where a ladder lay against the wall. Climbing up it, he reached the top of the flat roof and then lay on his back, hands behind his head, to look up at the night sky until he fell into a sweet, dream-filled sleep.
