Lord of the Lies

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. And there weren't always princes there, either. The only thing that brought them together was the need for humans to gain glory and fame. Otherwise, the flying reptiles preferred to stay away from humans. Where the valley and foothills met was the biggest point of contention.

Why do princes always try to prove their strength by slaying them? I haven't got the slightest idea. They always seemed to fail. Very few survived to tell their tale of bravery and take control of the land. Dragons not only breathed fire upon their enemies, but they also had talons the size of a large goat that could crush most buildings in a single strike. Wyverns had giant, gnarly fangs and spit deadly venom that melts the skin right off the bones. And drake's, don't even get me started on those feisty green bastards.

Overall, most found power with interesting words. Spirited gossip, if you will. The mightiest of princes that ever reigned over the land had little voices squeaking around, twisting reality in their favor. A hint of doubt here, a sprinkle of salacious rumor there. A risky but often fruitful tactic employed by those whose biggest muscle was their brain, not a sword-wielding bicep.

Piatchi was a similar type. A man of rumor. One who kept scrolls handy when a note needed to be passed with haste. Over time, as he worked in the valley, Piatchi gained a reputation. Rather short in stature, he wasn't a fighter but was just big enough to put on a threatening display. That is why he mostly relied on small actions and big words. He made an art out of tricking lesser men into incriminating themselves to reap the rewards. But what he didn't realize was others were getting worried about him. They were beginning to talk.

One day, a local man named Burgess questioned his actions. He noticed Piatchi talking with an older woman who was smiling ear to ear. He watched as the woman handed over a few coins and Piatchi kissed her cheek. He stopped chucking wads of hay over the fence to talk to another old man working next to him named Harold.

"Truth weavers like Piatchi scare me, ya know? Always talking about how one person is doing this or that, always spreading rumors. I bet he's a spy for the king," Burgess told him."He's always coming through here, getting the ladies all riled up with crazy stories and such."

Burgess stabbed his pitchfork into the hay bale, leaned in toward Harold and whispered in his ear, "I bet he's one of the fellows who steal from a man and sell it right back to him unnoticed." The old man giggled and they continued tossing clumps of hay to the horses.

Suddenly, the big gate leading into the castle swung open and two armored men on horses came trotting through. One wore a black iron chainmail suit, fitted with a stunning purple cloak. The other a more standard steel suit adorned with the crest of his family on a bright yellow sash. Both were obvious noblemen and the yellow sash showed an image of a pouncing tiger, a crest of the Reebdoog family name. They rode up toward the water well in the middle of the square and made an announcement:

"Is the lord of this home available to meet with Sir Reebdoog?" the man with the purple cloak asked.

After a few moments, the front doors to the castle opened up and an armored guard wielding a long spear stepped across the threshold. He yelled out to the men, "The lord will see you! Come inside."

It was customary for the locals to help visitors stable their horses and make small repairs to armor and such. The people rushed up to them and began clamoring over their items to take on the job. One of those people was Piatchi. In the commotion, he grabbed one of their swords, hid it behind his back, and slowly walked out of view. Harold saw this and nodded in agreement with Burgess' earlier accusation. He chuckled once again, shook his head, and went back to work.

Piatchi had stolen from many rich men through the years. He had amassed a small fortune which he kept hidden right under their noses. It was no secret to ordinary people. But he was great at hiding his true intentions from men with power.

After some time had passed, the old men spotted Piatchi leaning against the outer wall of the castle near the front gate. He was waiting for his next opportunity to walk through it. Luckily for him, an elf from the Yewish Orchards came into the valley and would offer Piatchi the opportunity of a lifetime.

The small-framed man with pointed ears and darkened yellow skin, named Herbert, walked into the castle with pride and pep. His government sent him to introduce trade negotiations between their people. Elves had an array of goods with magic properties that would benefit the valley greatly. The lord of this castle had strong business ties and direct access to the kingdom and the elf knew if he could strike a good trade, he would move up in rank within his government. Piatchi knew if he could get in good favor with the lord, he could make a move to get inside the royal gates where he could scam to his heart's content. He had to think on his feet.

As Herbert rounded the way past Piatchi, he waved him over. The elf obliged and met his extended hand and shook it. "Good day sir, do you know the lord of this home?" he asked. Piatchi raised his hand above his eyes and scanned the nearby area. "Oh yes, of course I do. The lord is a great man. Are you here to meet with him?" he replied. The elf nodded and grinned, obviously proud of his assignment. Piatchi noticed that nobody was paying attention to them and made a quick decision. He pulled him in close and whispered in his ear, "I'm going to do something strange. Just follow my lead and you'll be rewarded". He placed the sword he had stolen earlier into Herbert's hand and before he knew it, Piatchi yelled out as loud as he could, "Guards! I found this elf with a sword only a lord should keep. I believe it is stolen!"

He raised Herbert's sword-wielding hand high in the air as proof of his misdeed. Everybody looked at them and started chattering away.

Suddenly, a loud bell rang from an open window near the front door.

"Seize him!" The guard master shouted. Guards rushed to the poor elf and dragged him down the street to the front door of the castle. Reebdoog made his way outside and immediately recognized the sword as his own. He looked at the guard and asked how he had attained it. The guard pointed to Piatchi and said, "he caught this thief red-handed down the road there. Now that I think of it, I remember the elf taking it from your horse, and I assumed it was being repaired."

Herbert objected. "I wasn't even here when you arrived, lord!".

"Had anybody seen a different man steal this sword? Speak or the elf will be arrested!" the lord shouted. Nobody came forward, so the guard placed his wrists in iron shackles and threw him to the ground.

Reebdoog looked at Piatchi and said "Your name is?" He replied "Piatchi, lord". He continued, "Would you be interested in a job, Piatchi?" His pupils widened as thoughts of his future prosperity danced behind his eyes. "Of course, my lord. I shall always be in your service," he replied.

He invited Piatchi inside the castle as the lord motioned for the guards to take the elf. Herbert begged and pleaded for Piatchi to tell the truth as he was dragged away but his cries were ignored. Unfortunately for Herbert, this is exactly what he wanted to happen. Every last detail worked perfectly, for Piatchi.

Reebdoog pulled him in the direction of the front door and Piatchi rushed through. He was greeted by a group of men sitting at a long table, staring down at a map. The lord of the castle, Sir Longmire, sat in the middle with two men hunched over either shoulder.

Piatchi studied them closely and looked about the dark, damp room. He noticed a long spear fixed above a small, cracked wooden shield. The long table was drenched in a deep red tapestry, adorned with silver wine chalices and a lit golden candelabra. The map was withered but sturdy and seemed to be a record of the old passage through the wildlands.

"If we crossed this area by the moon of the night, we could avoid nesting dragons," said one man. "But then you risk being stalked by the jungle cats. They hunt at night, you know," said the other. "And now it seems we've come into an issue with the elves," Reebdoog interjected. "Oh?" Longmire replied.

"Longmire, this man is Piatchi. He's caught a thief with my widow-maker and I trust he can take care of our little rat problem," Reebdoog suggested. Longmire looked him up and down and said, "works for me. Fill him in and send him on his way,".

"And about the elf problem. It seems they are nothing but rotten thieves!" Reebdoog shouted with gusto. Longmire looked puzzled. "The same elves treading their way here to trade with me? Couldn't be. They've always been incredibly honest people," he replied. "I'm sure of it! It was the elf that Piatchi caught with my sword and he immediately shouted for the guards." Longmire was still unsure of the misdeed and instructed his most loyal guard to investigate the theft. "Take account of every person who saw him steal it and ask they hold their family name to it. The matter will resolve itself quickly enough. Until then, make sure the elf is taken care of properly. He is our guest for now."

Piatchi tugged on his collar as Reebdoog grabbed him by the shoulder and started escorting him toward the door.

"Take a rest tonight. Tomorrow we will ride to the edge of the wildlands and root out some rats," he said. Piatchi nodded and assured him he would be ready by daybreak. As they approached the door, Reebdoog advised, "be aware we may encounter wyrms and big cats. Bring your best suit of armor."

Some time later, ahead of the cold morning, Piatchi gathered his warm clothing. He took a few diamonds sewn into his belt and a gold chain to supplement the lords provisions on his trip. As he was gearing up, a familiar face appeared in front of his tent. He stood up from his makeshift bed to swing open the fabric flaps.

"Burgess? How dare you come and disturb me this late, you rotten...." he said before Burgess cut him off with his hand raised. "Piatchi, I saw what you did to that elf. I'm not a man to squeal but... we all have needs," he said carefully. "I know what is at stake for you, and it's easy to shut me up." His hands trembled as he stared at Piatchi to gauge his reaction. The tension built rapidly.

Piatchi quickly grabbed his halberd and swung it around to touch the front of his neck. "I'll tell you what, old man, you're right.” he said while gritting his teeth. “It would be very easy. But I'll oblige. I won't kill you. I'll save your neck this night and all the nights to come until you make that fateful decision."

Burgess, with his hands raised in the air, backed away from the razor sharp blade and nodded in agreement. He felt the center of his throat and realized a bit of blood was leaking out. He turned toward the darkness and ran as fast as his old legs could carry him. As his scrappy clothes vanished out of the light of the fire, Piatchi laid his halberd back on the ground and stared at the bloodied blade. He knew he would have to kill him, but didn't know when. However, at that moment, he had a lot of work to do. He finally had his golden opportunity.