At Rene Ponit the Aisorbmii continued to defend the first wall against the Kingdom. As had been observed, the Kingdom forces were divided; the nobles stayed at the back, trying to pull the Sword from the Stone, to inspire the men who actually charged the defences, and keep them from knowing that at home, their families were starving as food supplies were moved.

Would that hunger had merely driven them to protest, to argue, to simply disobey the rule of the sovereign nobles. But no. Some became organised, and the circumstances of the revolt became far more dangerous.

The following accounts are taken from historical records.

Episode Twenty-Four – Revolt of the Peasants

Ditups ar Talpa did not consider himself to be a reckless or vainglorious man. When he took his liege's coin and became a soldier of the Kingdom, he had little doubt that dashing heroics, fame and saga would not be the primary outcome.

Not even surviving the war was certain. He was well aware that the majority of his new companions in their flashy new burgundy uniforms might not return to their wives or children. Theirs not to question why, theirs but to do and die, he remembered.

Ditups was in it for the food. The nobles were off to war; they had ordered much of the available food supplies to be transported with the Company, and more behind. The peasants who remained would be rationed as much as those who enlisted, or they would starve as fresh supplies did not arrive quickly enough from the west to replace those taken to the east. This way, Ditups got to eat, and all for following a few orders.

Today all he had to do was walk beside the third wagon - much easier than tilling earth, he thought. There were seven wagons, all sent by the Lady Gillian del Freya. Some had food. Some had tents, to sleep in overnight, and woolly jumpers, in case the men got cold. The one Ditups was walking beside carried a catapult.

So far they had walked for almost a day. They had been told it would take perhaps two more weeks to reach Rene Ponit, choosing a route carefully to avoid pirates. They would stop at villages of the Kingdom, resting in the care of their countrymen during the night.

The sunlight was fading as they reached tonight's village. Ahead the villagers had gathered in force to receive them. Some carried torches, to help the riders see to guide the wagons. Some, who shivered, gathered near the torches to stay warm. Some carried their hoes and scythes and shovels, fresh from the fields.

Ditups's eyes rested on a large villager ahead of the convoy. He was tall, muscular, but thin, and his face was pale. He carried a hoe, the metal gleaming in the torchlight.

The villagers charged the wagons, leaping for those with food on. One reached the cloth-wagon and started throwing the jerseys to their cold countrymen.

The motion took Ditups so by surprise that he did not register the first few times he was told to draw his sword and hold them back. When he tried to draw it the scabbard stuck to the blade, and then his sword-belt snapped as he tried to force it clear.

An apple flew through the air, and he caught it in one hand and started to eat it, holding the sword in his right hand, putting himself between villagers and wagons. But several of the villagers swamped him, a shovel beat his sword far to one side and he was clubbed back against the wagon. He blacked out.

Marquis Astomus de Getal walked down the corridor towards the Palace dining hall, occasionally discussing with various servants small matters concerning the sudden revolt. Would the King prefer the curtains to be closed during this time? In the absence of apple supplies, would he accept a blackberry pie as part of dessert? Various nobles had requested an audience to find a solution to the problem, were there any details which should be known before assigning palace rooms to them?

When he reached the door he carefully and briefly took a look at the clock on the wall. A few minutes, he decided. He concentrated. Something – he imagined a rock, or some such – was heard to collide against the far corner of the corridor, and various of the servants looked for the source of the sound. Astomus pulled open the door to the dining hall, and suddenly stepped back into a passageway behind the door.

He moved quickly and silently through the passage, passing several small chambers until he came to the one he desired. With practised care he indicated to the scribe that he would take over, and the scribe left his little desk.

The wall here was unduly thin, but only in a few places, sufficient for someone to put their ear against and listen in. There were also eye-holes, but the scribes tended not to use them, preferring to allow extra light into the chambers so that they could see what they were recording. Astomus had no intention of recording anything; in fact his task was to prevent all recordings of the imminent conversation. He peered through the eye-holes.

There was a nurse in the bedroom, a pretty one, to Astomus's eyes. In the bed was a fair haired man, his face clean-shaven, his eyes closed, his breathing slow. There was a tap at the door, which the nurse answered. She left.

King Arit fre Togr entered the room, a young man beside him. The King sat on a chair beside the bed, and gently shook the arm of the man in the bed. 'Master Rekow, canst thou awaken?'

The man in the bed stirred. Astomus shifted position; he was not used to remaining so still for extended periods. Rekow coughed a bit, and licked his lips, but did not wake, and the King repeated his gentle action, to similar response.

The young man hit Rekow in the shoulder. 'Arrrrr,' said Rekow, 'all right all right, I'm up I'm up. What's the matter with yer? Oooo,' he said, his surroundings coming into focus. 'What's 'appenin'?'

'Thou art a guest at the Royal Palace of the Kingdom, my Aisorbmii friend. Mine understanding indicates thou didst risk thyself to determine information we art most desperately seeking. I wouldst hear it from thine lips firsthand.'

'Aaarrr. Sodit,' said Rekow. 'Sunder, who is this?'

Astomus was astounded at the impertinence, but the King smiled. The young man, Sunder, answered earnestly. 'The King, Rek. This is the King. He wants to help us.'

'What makes yer so sure?'

'We're not dead yet.'

'Ah. Prob'ly a good point.' Rekow yawned, sat up, and stretched. 'I couldn't 'ave a cup o' water, could I?'

There was a jug on the table, and the King gestured Sunder to pour some into a glass. Rek accepted the glass and threw it over his own face. 'Now I'm up,' he announced. 'What yer wantin'?'

'His Majesty has been investigating the prophesies of Yeonan, like we have,' said Sunder. 'He and I have been looking over the Book of Inesa all week, piecing things together.'

'All week?'

'You've been unconscious since you helped out that librarian girl. She's comatose, by the way.'

'Unggh.' Rek swung the sheets aside, climbed off the bed and poured a glass of water, which he drank. 'All right. Yer've been readin'. What've yer found?

'Yeonan was born under the star of Inesa. He was a Kingdom philosopher who lived a generation or two after the Aisorbmii split off from the Kingdom, a thousand years ago.'

'The prophet wast a student of history,' said the King. 'He believed that much of it could be applied, for great profit, to the future. Mine tutor when I wast young was also a follower of this discipline. Mine father didst consider him a sound man, if a little rebellious in spirit.'

'Turns out he did a lot,' continued Sunder. 'He sailed to other lands, across the seas, and he recorded what he'd found. He believed some other land out there, some dark place, had sent beings to these islands to change them and rule them. He recalls visions of these places, these peoples, and decided the same thing would happen here.

'One of his companions was a student of the spells which run through Rene Ponit. He had swords forged there.'

''Tis a powerful place,' said the King. 'As thou mayest be aware, swords blessed there render their users invisible to spells of searching, among other properties.'

'The Sword in the Stone was one of them, the greatest of them,' said Sunder. 'But Yeonan knew, in that time of strife, that its power had to be used against the dark. He locked it into the Stone, and it's been there ever since.'

'I didst order it to be sent here, upon word of its capture,' said the King, 'in order that I mayeth examine it. Mine instruction has apparently been lost, for they persevere in trying to draw it within a mile of thine defences.'

Astomus moved position again. The chamber was dusty. When he returned his eyes to the eyeholes Rekow had swung his legs from the bed, poured himself another glass of water, and this time drunk it. 'Prophecy,' he said. 'There was a prophecy about the sword bein' drawn in a time of darkness. Was that Yeonan's?'

'It seemeth to me such a line wast probably an instruction by Yeonan, which hast been corrupted into song over the centuries,' observed the King. 'Mine analysis of his journals indicate he wast most clear-headed, if disbelieved. It still seemeth strange to me that in the face of such disbelief, his journals should have survived the passage of time so as to appear in this library.'

'Fine. Yeonan prepared for battle against some darkness,' Rekow summarised. 'Here's a question, hope yer've got a good answer fer it. What makes yer think this darkness is 'ere? Now?'

'Mine ability to sleep heavily is not what it was,' explained the King. 'Mine Librarian, Dushkama del Rayma, didst speak of a darkness in the forest to me several times.'

'But yer was already lookin' up yer books then,' countered Rekow. 'There's more ter this, in't there?'

'Rek, this is the King,' protested Sunder. 'Try and have a bit more respect, please.'

'No. So far it's all speculation from ancient writings. If I'd known how ter write I could've written a story about bunny rabbits in a dark forest a thousand years ago an' yer might still be 'ere arguin' about it. Now I'm grateful for the help, yer Majesty, and I'm sure Sunder 'as appreciated yer story-tellin'. But there's more to it than dark woods.'

The King looked at Rekow carefully. 'Is Endam still in your mind?'

Rekow seemed shocked. 'Not any more. How'd you know about 'im?'

'In the library, you mentioned a Marquis. I also heard in my slumbers thou babbling in thine trance. It seemeth mine assumption was correct, however, so I mayest continue.

'Yeonan didst describe, in some detail, the powers these dark creatures have. Manipulation. Disruption. Resurrection. A love of war and death. The histories of mine ancestors and predecessors indicates almost a thousand years of war, followed finally by thirty years of peace.

'Think, Master Rekow. Two nations trained for war, bred on hatred, now struggle uneasily for peace. After three decades the skills fade, unused, but the rage remains. All that is required is a spark, and two weaker nations will fight to mutual destruction.

'It wast mine misfortune to know Marquis Endam ar Berrito long before his demise,' said the King. 'He had some renown as a swordsman, as did Baroness Erica del Erica as a witch. I had once considered for him a high position, some advisory capacity to the royal throne. I determined he did not have the wit.'

'He was an idiot,' said Rekow.

'Do not insult the dead,' snapped the King. 'He disappeared shortly after that. Almost a year ago. Suddenly thine fortress factory, Anilomes is destroyed. Endam is revered as the architect of the raid. We have a spark, but my suspicions wert aroused.

'Sadly the fight for peace wast futile then, as conspiracies took opportunities to right ancient wrongs by committing more wrongs. I didst question the Baroness Erica del Erica upon her return. She said merely that the Marquis had uncovered evidence against the Aisorbmii, but this is not difficult. She believed from her capture that your Rangers had magic. She was deceived. Mine Queen and I felt she might be a compromise to the security of the Kingdom – an unwitting agent of the dark. And so she was killed, and later resurrected.'

'Kingdom magic does not influence minds so easily as Aisorbmian magic,' said Sunder. 'The Kingdom did not order the raid. And even if the Aisorbmii conspired to start a war, would they choose a rice pudding factory?'

Rekow nodded. 'This makes sense. An Aisorbmii would start a war by- oh sweet hell.'

'Conspirators from the Kingdom ordered your Prime Minister dead,' said the King. 'I knew it wouldst happen, and sent word to him of several ways that might endeth the war before it began.'

Astomus sat back, thankful he could not be seen, that he shook was not apparent. The King had conspired with the Prime Minister to prevent the war?

His leg had gone to sleep and he rubbed it awake again. He heard a whistling noise, and a *CRUMP* kind of noise. The sound reverberated through the chamber. He wondered what it was.

'Strategically these dark forces maketh sound moves,' admired the King. 'They hath caused a war. They organise the assassination of a major leader, then his replacement-'

'Two replacements,' said Sunder. 'Another has probably already been selected.'

Whistle. CRUMP. What was that?

'Quite so,' said the King. 'I can only wonder what will be nex-'

CRUMP.

The ceiling collapsed on poor Astomus, winding him, followed by a huge boulder which tore through the wall and crushed his legs.

'Catapult,' said the King. 'It seemeth me we hadst best move to safety.'

'Most sensible thing I heard all day,' Rekow said.

'The conspiracy of light can continue in the downstairs dining chamber,' said the King. 'I think there is blackberry pie.'

Astomus could feel the floorboards weakening beneath him, and feared they might break, for he might fall through and be crushed for certain. With trembling arms he worked his fingers forward to his legs and probed the damaged area. There was something sticky there.

Where on earth had the peasants got a catapult? he wondered.

Mitosipilitz was annoyed. For a day his factory of Acoipat had ceased all production, its workers sent home. His protests had been noted, and ignored. When he'd taken affairs into his own hands, he'd been placed under guard by the Paladin Torosanifeya.

Unwilling to let the interlopers continue their investigation unobserved he had remained, and fidgeted. Happily it seemed they were now finishing. Perhaps work could resume. There was rice pudding to be produced.

The chief inspector, a Doctor Medofesipanu, gave him a look which penetrated his eagerness and opened his eyes to gloom.

'There's poisons here,' the Doctor said gravely. 'One's easy to spot. Fast acting. A tin in every fifty, maybe a hundred. The other's more difficult to find, and I think, damn near impossible when consumed. One tin in fifteen has that.'

'Yer can't be serious,' said Mitosipilitz. 'We've been producin' rice puddin' here for centuries. Never had anythin' like this before.'

'Times have changed. I'm deadly serious. This poison killed my daughter,' said Medofesipanu. He turned to the Paladin. 'We'll 'ave to destroy the place, an' probably test the rice fields too. I want the source of this thing.'

Torosanifeya nodded, stalked to the end of the factory, and drew his broadsword. He took several hefty swings at the machinery before it broke. When it did he knelt and prayed. The reverence continued to terrify Mitosipilitz – the sheer malicelessness, the necessity of this action.

Both the Doctor and the Paladin apologised before they left. When they were gone Mitosipilitz ran to the destroyed machines and knelt and cried. He grabbed for a sharp shard of metal, the despair so strong he decided he would prefer to take his own life.

How long he deliberated, he would not know. He cried, the sharp metal hovering above his bare wrist.

And then he heard a command, and the wall cracked, and fell outward and apart. A regal woman wearing white, red and gold, leading a Company of riders, entered through the hole and peered at him. Her expression was calm and gentle, and she moved her hand down towards him.

An angel, thought Mitosipilitz, but this first thought was soon dismissed as she held forward a picture. There was the face of a young man in his teens on it.

'Mine name is Queen Srindra del Bou,' she said. 'Hast thou seen mine son?'

'N-n-n-no, ma'am,' said the terrified man. His right hand lowered, the metal pricking his left wrist. He dropped the metal and clamped his right fingers over the cut.

'Ah,' said the Queen. She cast her gaze around, observing the inactive and damaged machinery, the absence of other people. Her expression hardened. 'Fine. Mine search will continue elsewhere.'

Mitosipilitz knew the wound would heal, as it was. He had not cut deep enough. But he could see the Queen's next instruction coming.

He clutched at the metal again. A second try, quick.

'This is a squalid place,' she said to her Company. 'Destroy it. And have this unhelpful creature killed.'

The Company leader drew his sword, and advanced.

Blood spilt.

The peasants managed to fire a few more boulders before they ran out. They found other objects, but they did not work so well. So their leaders made other plans.

In the east, the first wall of Rene Ponit fell. The casualty rate soared for a few hours, but the second wall was defended far more grimly than the first.

And for us, my dear viewer. The conspiracy of light began in the palace, birthed by a union of minds of different nations, birthed by the answers we so desperately seek.

How would this conspiracy fare, we might ask. Where many questions have been answered, many others remain. But the truth, the full truth, is coming, dear viewer, worry ye not.

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